The Perfect Plan
by abcdefg1234567890
Summary: Alcazar, LiRic, Cassadine fan fic. Faith's sister Hope comes back to Port Charles to avenge her grandmother's death. Instead gets intwined in a plot to foil Faith's and Trevor Lansing's (Ric's dad) plot to destroy Sonny by using Elizabeth and Ric.


Well at least it's not raining this time, she thought as she hopped out of the taxicab and strutted to the front door of Luke's. Her mind flashed back to the last night she spent in Port Charles all those years ago. Pouring rain and booming thunder, she recalled bidding goodbye to her grandmother, God rest her. Foolishly, she had failed to consider that that meeting might have been the final one for the two. But in retrospect, there was very little she thought clearly about that night. After all she had naively believed the old woman's logic. High tailing yourself away from this town and all the bad luck it held was the best thing you can do for your future and this family, she had told her.  
  
Hope stood for a moment before the eccentric decor of the building, lost in thought.  
  
That was then, her mind said. This is now; and now, at long last, is my time.  
  
She turned her head to look up into the night sky behind her, gazing at the full moon trying it's best to shine through the dark clouds slowly creeping over it.  
  
"Here's to good omens", she quipped softly. Turning to face Luke's again, she grabbed the handle took a deep breath, and swung its heavy portal open wide.  
  
************************************************************  
  
Luke Spencer was throwing darts at a dart board on the wall when he heard the front door of his blues club sing itself open then slam shut with authority.  
  
He smiled to himself as he declared aloud, "Now that's what I call an entrance!" He threw another dart that landed on the one of the board's far outer spaces.  
  
"And that's what I call poor aim," crooned the sultry female voice from behind him.  
  
Luke turned around to have his mischievous eyes take in the exotic beauty of a 5 foot 9 inch curvaceous woman with long, dark brown hair; olive toned skin and big crystal blue eyes. Then he looked at her mouth. Full lips and a hand resting on her one of her leather clad hips. He liked her already.  
  
"And you must be why men thank heaven they have eyes to see with, darlin'."  
  
"The infamous Luke Spencer I presume?" she asked.  
  
"That all depends on who you been talking to. What's it to ya?"  
  
"I'm the investor your son arranged for you to meet with. My name is Hope Theron."  
  
Hope took a step forward and extended her hand.  
  
Luke took it and shook it. Then he grinned. "Don't see too many investors waltzing around in leather pants and stiletto heels around these parts. You must be from outta town."  
  
"I'm well travelled but not unfamiliar with the place. I've heard many stories about you Mr. Spencer. One might think you're a legend here."  
  
"Hey, I do what I can to keep life exciting in Port Chuckles." Luke made his way behind the bar and pulled out a bottle of scotch. "What can I get you," he asked her as he poured himself a drink.  
  
"I'll have what you're having," she answered. Hope pulled out a chair and sat at one of the tables.  
  
"So you like the hard stuff do ya? You sound like a whips and chains investor after my own heart." He brought the drinks to the table and sat down across from her.  
  
"I don't mind things a little rough," she said. "That's kind of what brings me here in the first place."  
  
"You don't say? Well darlin', I gotta admit, I was real surprised when I heard that some big shot foreign investor was interested in buying up my fledgling little baby here. But looking at you now, I get the feeling that it's a little more than just business that brings you to this part of the wilderness. So now, I gotta ask you, what's your real angle? And what's it got to do with my club?"  
  
Hope just smiled at him as she took a sip from her drink. "I just want to make money. And according to what Lucky told me about how things have been going for you financially, you want to stop losing it." Her voice deepened suddenly as she asked him ever so sweetly, "Don't you think we could help each other?"  
  
Luke leaned in still grinning. "I'm sure we could. But the only thing about me is that I like to run and star in my own show. You know what I'm saying? And since you seem to have the money to burn, I don't mind helping you torch some of it, but when it comes to actually running this place, it's all me."  
  
"That's perfectly fine with me. I'm sure you do a fine job managing this place, in spite of your recent money woes. But I'm all for second chances at the moment, so let's just say that for now, I'll help you pay off your debts to get the place up and running like new again. Then you don't have to worry about me. I'll be like a silent partner. You call the shots and I'll hold the purse. As long as you don't pull any of the stunts that got you into this mess in the first place."  
  
Luke sat back in his chair again and chuckled, "Uh oh lady, you don't pull any punches. All right, say I go along with this little plan. What do you get out of it?"  
  
This time Hope leaned in, tossing back her long brown mane as she did so, "Well I think that's pretty obvious," she answered. "The more money the club makes, the nicer the return on my investment."  
  
"Uh huh. And what else?"  
  
"Mr. Spencer, are you implying that I have some secret agenda?" she asked, feigning offence.  
  
"No darlin, I'm asking you what that agenda is."  
  
"I'm not saying I have one, but even if I did, would that make you not want to do this deal with me?"  
  
"Hell no. I'm all for personal vendettas myself. As long as your secret plans don't hurt my club."  
  
"Not in the least. My only interest is to help you restore it to its former glory as the hottest nightspot in town. And I have little doubt that together, we'll do just that. So, do we have a deal... darlin'?" Hope held her hand out to him.  
  
Luke's grin grew even wider as he held out his hand and they shook in agreement. "I'd say we do Ms. Theron..."  
  
"Please call me Hope." she interrupted.  
  
"Only if you promise to call me Luke from now on."  
  
"Alright Luke." Suddenly, Hope took her hand away and used it to pull an envelope out of her tote. "I've taken the initiative in having my attorney prepare a contract that should cover all the bases in terms of the sale. Of course there are two copies, one of which is yours to keep. After you fill in the appropriate fields and sign the form, I will take this to her and she can then arrange for the first transfer of funds to the account in 24 hours. That way, we can get the jump on those naughty creditors and get the club back in our hands. The sooner we're on the ball, the sooner the debt will be behind us and we can have your baby running again."  
  
Taking the envelope from her hand, Luke eyed the ambitious woman with scrutiny as he opened it and looked at the contract. "Looks pretty much in order. Every i dotted, every t crossed," he commented as he read it, "You're quite the eager beaver, aren't you Hope?"  
  
"I just like to be prepared, especially when I do business. I think you'll find everything in there to your satisfaction. Need a pen?" Hope passed one along the table to him.  
  
"Thanks, I think." he said wryly. Luke took another look at both copies of the document. She wasn't kidding, he thought. The thing was airtight, but fair nonetheless. Gotta give it to her, she's thorough. With a satisfied nod, he signed one of the forms and handed it back to her. "I guess we're off to the races," he declared. "Shall we make a toast?" He raised his glass. "To making money, and lots of it!"  
  
"Nice toast, cheers," Hope commented approvingly. Then in a shot, she downed her drink and rose quickly to her feet. "Now as fun as this has been, I need to get going. Say, you know of a decent place to crash nearby?"  
  
"You talking four poster bed or haystack?"  
  
"Something in between will do."  
  
"There's a diner and rooming house near and dear to my heart. Just follow the path along the docks going east from here. It's called Kelly's. Although I'd think that you would just tell your driver to take you to the nearest luxury hotel."  
  
"Appearances aren't always what they seem Luke. Besides, I like to be practical. You know what they say, 'Waste not, want not'. I'll be in touch." With that, Hope turned and burned a trail out the door.  
  
Luke took another swig of his scotch as he watched her go. Oh yeah, that one's real different, he thought. Then he smiled. She'll fit right in.  
  
************************************************************  
  
The growing overcast sky had quickly turned to a dense cloud of moisture as Hope scooted her way eastward down the harbour front. In no time, rain began to pelt the brunette, who without an umbrella or rain jacket, decided to tough out the elements and use her tote to protect her quickly soaking head.  
  
Stubbornly, Hope continued to forge on across the slippery docks until one of her pointy stilettos caught between the wood planks, sending her into a forward descent that would have landed her in a wet heap face first had not strong arms caught her in mid tumble.  
  
Hope looked up to come face to face with her rescuer.  
  
"My hero," she smiled gratefully.  
  
The towering man did not smile back, but he did respond. "A young woman such as yourself shouldn't be roaming the docks alone on a night like this. One never knows what dangerous people she might encounter."  
  
"Are you one of those dangerous people?" Hope asked.  
  
Getting a good look at her as she straightened up, he grinned appreciatively. "It depends on whom you ask. But for your peace of mind, you may say, not at this moment."  
  
"Wow, naughty and honest. You get points for both." As his grin broadened to Cheshire levels, she finally noticed that rain pellets were no longer drenching her. The stranger held a large black umbrella over both of them. She almost began to enjoy the close quarters with the darkly handsome man until her eye noticed the burly shadow standing not far behind holding an umbrella of his own.  
  
Following her gaze, the man looked back at her and spoke again. "Perhaps I and my driver can give you a lift somewhere as opposed to running blindly through the rain like you were a few moments ago." The grin was still there but it was his eyes that Hope now focused on. She didn't just see his eyes; she felt them, all over her, almost like he was taking her in, in one huge glacier eyeful. Hope wasn't the kind of woman who scared easy, but she couldn't do anything to hide the involuntary shiver that suddenly leapt through her spine.  
  
"You're catching a chill," he noted softly.  
  
Hope, startled from her trance, answered quickly, "It's nothing. Look, as gracious as your offer is, I will be fine. I'm almost at my destination anyway."  
  
The man looked at her for a moment, almost in contemplation, then said, "Then I insist you take my umbrella. I would hate for you to spend another moment in such difficult conditions without at least something to protect you from the elements." His eyes had softened a little, but Hope still didn't feel they were safe. She decided it best not to fight him on the issue.  
  
"If you insist, how could I possibly refuse," she said. As he handed her the umbrella, she added, "Thank you very much." She really was grateful. She wasn't sure how much of this 'cats and dogs' weather she could take. She was really starting to get cold, and the damn leather in her pants was really starting to stick to her legs.  
  
As he stepped back from her, the other man behind him stepped forward almost in synch, to cover his employer with his own rain protection. What a job, Hope thought.  
  
The tall man said to her, "No need to thank me. May you arrive safely at your destination."  
  
Hope flashed him a quick smile and turned to go as she said, "I will now, thanks to your generosity." Once out of earshot, she tore into a full tilt run and didn't stop running until she saw the lights of Kelly's shining from behind the alcove before her minutes later. As charming as he was, (and he was charming), a warning alarm had rung unceasingly in her mind as she stood in the rain with him. It was unsettling and if there was one thing she didn't relish, it was feeling unsettled. Making her way around the corner, she realized that she didn't even know his name, or even how to give the umbrella back. I wonder who he was, she thought. Then shaking her head, she told herself it didn't matter. Any further speculation about him or why he was even at the docks in the first place would have to wait until a dryer day. For now, food and a goodnight's sleep were her primary concerns as her body was now complaining how it had been a long day. Resolved, if only for the moment, she walked into the warm lights of the diner.  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Having well rested and recovered from her damp sojourn the night before, Hope woke up early that morning, first to endure the ridiculous harangue in couriering her two lost luggage bags from the airport to Kelly's, then to seek out the next boat to Spoon Island. Despite the early morning's drawbacks, her mood was upbeat as she awaited the ferry, so much so that she almost surprised herself. Must be the open air and water, she thought, as she boarded the boat.  
  
Her arrival on deck was greeted with the regular plethora of looks she got most places she went. Many of them were approving (mostly male), some leering (again male), and others just plain inexplicable (maybe it's seasickness this time, she wondered). In any case, Hope's response was the same as always. Opting to stand by the bow, she embraced her role as the local tourist attraction and put on a show for them all in her white shirt & low riding pant ensemble that showed off the complex tattoo design that decorated her lower belly. Since she began collecting tattoos years ago, she had made a personal fashion rule that at least one of her five should be on display no matter what she wore. Why bother getting them at all if you never actually flaunted them, she figured. And flaunt, she did, most effectively, particularly on this day.  
  
The warm sunny breeze danced across her face, making her grateful that she had opted to pull her hair back in long ponytail today. As she leaned against the side, Hope's eyes narrowed on the impending cliffs that made up the bulk of Spoon's creaky ominous shore. Liberated as she felt, she had come with a specific purpose in mind; nostalgia was no-where on her radar. This island held many unhappy memories for her that she had finally laid to rest after many agonizing years. Today she approached as a stranger, a visitor, and that was just what she wanted. After all, this was her time. Only she could call the shots on how she would own it.  
  
Within minutes, the ferry docked in the tiny pier and people began loading on and off the boat. Slipping through the crowds rushing towards the beach and nature galleries, Hope veered off towards the north end of the island. Even though it had been years since she'd been back at Windermere, she remembered the little paths and hideaways like the back of her hand. In younger, simpler days, she and her sister embarked on make-believe adventures in those woods and paths. Years, battles and much bitterness later, Hope wandered these same paths, but alone this time, and a much different woman than she'd ever imagined she would become.  
  
Coming out from the path, she stood before the ostentatious doors of Windermere. Not much had changed about the place, not even the little bonsai shrubs that surrounded the bottom steps. Little survivors, Hope thought with a smile. Lost in her momentary admiration for the unique yet hardy plants, she did not notice the man who stood behind and watched her until he spoke.  
  
"May I help you with something?" asked the polite yet, serious tone.  
  
Hope turned around. The source of the tone was an attractive but humourless- looking bearded man. Dressed in all black, he reminded Hope of the Crypt keeper, but with a designer suit. She couldn't decide if the look he gave her was meant to be intimidating or if that was how his face just was.  
  
Great, she mused, Spike aged about 20 years with an immunity to light.  
  
Regaining her thoughts, she answered his query, "Not unless you can take me to see Alexis Davis."  
  
"And is she expecting you?" he inquired.  
  
"Nope," she said a matter-of-factly, "but I'm sure she won't mind a short visit from a friendly face. Probably be an improvement on this oh so bright and cheerful place."  
  
He stood back, leaning on one leg and folded his arms across his chest. Arching an eyebrow, he said, "The scenery displeases you?"  
  
"Take it easy Jeeves, I'm not disrespecting your artistic flair. I was actually taking a bit of a hit at mine. See those bonsai trees over there? I planted those years ago. Poor things, they've taken a beating here it looks, but they're tough. Keep on ticking."  
  
"How fascinating," he commented, sounding highly uninterested, "however I am not expecting any visitors today and neither is Alexis, so I'm afraid you will have to leave. You may take your bonsai trees, however, if you like."  
  
Hope's expression was almost incredulous, "Wow, you're pretty huffy for hired help aren't you Jeeves?  
  
"My name is not Jeeves. I am the owner of this 'oh so bright and cheerful place', I believe is the way you put it?" he shot back.  
  
"Well why didn't you say so?" Hope took a step forward, making a languid bow as she did so, "Let me introduce myself. My name is Hope Theron. What's yours?"  
  
"I am Stephan Cassadine," he replied, revealing the slightest hint of a smirk at her gesture.  
  
"Wonderful!" Hope exclaimed. "Now that we've been properly introduced, be a dear won't you and tell Alexis that I'm here to see her."  
  
"No," he declared.  
  
"Fine," she said shrugging her shoulders, " don't be one. But I still need to see Alexis."  
  
"The answer hasn't changed."  
  
"You're not much fun," she said.  
  
"It's of little consequence what level of amusement I provide you. Guests do not come to Windermere unannounced."  
  
"Then announce me."  
  
"Though your manner and dress suggest you are overwhelmingly brazen and common, I am not convinced that you are a complete fool. You seem a woman of some intelligence; surely you can understand that there is a formality."  
  
"Actually no," Hope replied unmoved. "My intelligence allows me to dismiss such annoying hindrances." Without warning, Hope began screaming Alexis's name.  
  
"ALEXIS! AAAALEEEEXIIIISSS!"  
  
Stephan rapidly ran out of patience, "You're wasting your time. She's not going to hear you."  
  
"That's what you think. Now unless you decided upon purchasing Castle Grey Skull that soundproofing was a necessary design feature, a well-aimed shout can still carry across this island and even into the tunnels. ALEXIIISSS!"  
  
"She's not here," said Stephan, his tone more irritated and sharp.  
  
"Yes I am," Alexis stated emerging from one of the paths carrying her daughter, Kristina, in a harness around her shoulders and with Kristina's nanny, Mrs. Landsbury not far behind.  
  
Hope grinned at them all. "Ms. Davis. So you did hear me calling you?"  
  
"I think everyone on the ferry from across the docks heard you calling me," Alexis answered.  
  
"Well I've heard a great deal about you, and have been quite anxious to meet you myself. I am in need of legal counsel."  
  
Alexis spoke softly to Kristina who had not yet made a cry nor yell in spite of Hope's noisemaking. Looking up, she said, "Then you've come to the wrong place because I am not authorized to give legal counsel."  
  
"A mere formality," Hope said, shooting a knowing glance at Stephan. He silently glowered. "I can easily get that fixed. And if we could go inside and sit down, I can explain to you exactly how."  
  
Stephan interjected, "Absolutely not. Alexis, we don't even know who this woman or what she's after. We needn't waste our time entertaining her drivel."  
  
"You don't need to," said Alexis, unimpressed at her brother's attempt to control the situation, "but I'm curious as to what she has come all this way to say. Especially since she's offering to solve a dilemma of mine. And actually appears to mean it."  
  
Stephan rolled his eyes, "Alexis please.."  
  
"I don't think I got your name," she said.  
  
"Hope Theron. You may call me Hope."  
  
"And you may call me Alexis. Mrs Landsbury, please take my daughter upstairs for her nap, I'll be up to see her shortly." After handing the little girl to the elder woman, she began making her way to the front door, then turned to face Hope. "If you'll follow me to the study, we can talk there."  
  
Hope gladly followed as Stephan brought up the rear. On the way he protested still, "Alexis, I strongly object to you discussing anything further with this woman."  
  
"That's fine," Alexis answered as they arrived at the entrance to the study, "but despite your objections, this discussion is going to happen, and it will happen in private." Quickly turning, she grabbed the doors and slid them shut behind her.  
  
************************************************************  
  
"Open your eyes Sleeping Beauty," she purred as she ran her index finger down his chest.  
  
Lorenzo's eyes snapped open as he grabbed Skye by her waist, tossing her onto the bed and pinning her there with his weight. He smiled wickedly at her.  
  
"I wasn't sleeping," he said.  
  
Skye was almost breathless with surprise, "I can see that," she gasped. With a hungry look in his eyes he lowered his face to her neck, pressing his cheek to hers as he breathed softly against the area behind the back of her ear. Skye found herself privately wondering how he constantly made acts of affection like this one serendipitously tender and erotic. Trying to maintain her composure, she asked him, "Is there something in particular you're looking for?"  
  
His whisper was raspy. "Buried treasure."  
  
"Well you're not going to find any there," she said coyly.  
  
Lorenzo raised his head and looked at her. Their eyes locked with an effect that electrified her. No one else ever made her feel this energized, this willing to gamble. She lifted her head to meet his lips with her parted own, but missed as he jerked his head further back and grinned. This is so like him, she thought. He'll tease me first.  
  
Still grinning, he slid his body down hers until he was facing her heaving chest. As he did so, his thumb caressed the tip of her chin then traced a path down her throat to the neckline of her nightgown. Delicately, he lifted the material just enough so he could take a peak. He looked up salaciously at her.  
  
"Any here?" he asked.  
  
"Depends on what your idea of treasure is," she answered smilingly.  
  
He winked at her, "Guess."  
  
"Hmm-hmm," she said shaking her head. "You first."  
  
Forty-five sweaty, steamy and orgasmic minutes later he asked her, "How did you like that one?"  
  
Skye didn't want to move. She continued to bask in the rush of their feverish lovemaking as she replied, "Not bad, but I have some brainstorms of my own to volunteer." She turned to reach for him, but he took her hand instead, holding it palm wards to his lips.  
  
His smile was warm, but distant. Skye knew that look well. It was the one he gave her when he was about to gently turn down one of her requests. "Unfortunately, we'll have to save those for another date."  
  
"Not another business meeting." she complained.  
  
"No. Just an appointment I have to keep." His look and tone was more serious now. Whatever it was he had on his mind, she observed, it was obviously important.  
  
"Is there anything wrong?" she asked with a pang of concern.  
  
"No."  
  
"In other words, you won't tell me," she concluded.  
  
Lorenzo smiled again, but remained silent.  
  
"I'm not trying to pry," she explained, "I just hope that nothing's wrong."  
  
"I'm in bed with a gorgeous woman. What could be wrong with that?"  
  
"You know what I mean."  
  
"There's nothing for you to worry about," he declared. Then before Skye could say anything else, he planted a kiss on her that almost made her blush.  
  
"You're a very bad man Lorenzo Alcazar," she said afterwards.  
  
"And you're a very seductive woman Skye Quartermaine," he shot back in a voice smoother than butter. Suddenly, he hopped out of bed and put on his robe. Taking a minute to admire the view of Skye tangled lazily amongst his sheets, he asked her, "So are you going to lie there all day or you going to join me in the shower?"  
  
"Is that a request or an order?" she ventured.  
  
"Normally it would be a request." With a deft swiftness, he swept her off the bed and into his arms so her body was flush against his. "But today," he murmured intensely, "it's an order."  
  
Skye could only let out a low level sigh as they made their way to his ensuite, sheets dragging behind them.  
  
************************************************************  
  
Alexis stood in the study facing her unusual guest. The two women stared at one another, Hope grinning as Alexis examined her further, one woman reading the other. Not just anyone would come to this island and make the scene this woman made, Alexis pondered silently. Provocative attire and tattoos aside, she couldn't help but be intrigued by her guest as she watched her make herself at home in the leather chair behind the desk. Stephan would have blown bigger than a volcano if he had witnessed this. Alexis smirked.  
  
"So who are you?" she asked aloud.  
  
"I told you," Hope answered. "My name is."  
  
"I didn't ask for your name. I got that earlier. My question is who are you? And what's it got to do with me?"  
  
Hope sat back in the chair, languidly crossing her long white enwrapped legs. "You don't mind my sitting here do you?"  
  
Alexis knew very well that Hope still wouldn't give a damn if she had told her she did, even though she really didn't. "No, but no doubt my brother would. That's his favourite chair."  
  
"Your brother?"  
  
"Stephan. You met him outside."  
  
"Ah yes, the congenial lord of the manor. We got off to a screaming start."  
  
"I could tell. Would you like me to ask Mrs. Landsbury to fix you anything as well? Some tea or a snack perhaps?" Alexis asked facetiously.  
  
"Oh that'll be unnecessary," Hope answered, ignoring Alexis' sarcasm. "I'm fine as I am."  
  
"Good," Alexis declared, clasping her hand in front of her, smiling tightly. "Now that we've properly gauged your comfort level, you can finally answer some of my questions."  
  
"Ah yes," Hope sighed, but with a twinkle in her eye, "Who am I and how it concerns you."  
  
"Bingo."  
  
"Well it's like I said before, I'm a business woman in need of legal counsel."  
  
"You didn't say before that you were a business woman. What kind of business?"  
  
"I'm an art dealer."  
  
"What kind of art?"  
  
"Any kind. All of them hard-to-find, original works and artefacts."  
  
Alexis raised her eyebrows, further intrigued as she sat down on the chaise. "Well I'm sure that must be fascinating work for you. In any case, I can't give you any legal counsel."  
  
"Hmmm, something about a bad brush with the law, I recall. The bar suspended you."  
  
"Rather they revoked my license to practice," Alexis corrected. She wasn't sure if she'd betrayed a hint of bitterness in her voice. If so, she hoped that her guest didn't catch it.  
  
Unfortunately for Alexis, it was within Hope's nature to seek out such subtleties. "I can understand your frustration," she sympathized. "Especially considering the circumstances of your case."  
  
"What would you know about my case?" asked Alexis suspiciously.  
  
"Surely you can understand the sensational headlines, or rather gossip fodder, the murder of an international arms dealer and the subsequent trials of his perpetrators, would make. But I'm a critical thinker, so I chose to do my own research into the events surrounding Luis Alcazar's death."  
  
"And what did your critical skills enable you to discover."  
  
"That there are always two sides to every story. And that people can be quite forgiving if give the right amount of persuasion."  
  
"There are a number of people in this town that would eagerly disagree with you on that point."  
  
"You're referring to the Quartermaines?"  
  
"So you know about them as well?" "That they tried to take your infant daughter from you? Yes, I am aware of that, and that you prevailed over them on that score."  
  
"That is true," Alexis didn't try to hide her conflicted look, when reminded of how Stephan had succeeded in defaming Ned, enabling her to win custody of Kristina from him and the insanity known as the Quartermaine family. "But then you are also aware of their concerted efforts to ensure I am never able to practice law again."  
  
"As I stated before, that can easily be changed."  
  
"I don't think you understand. They are a very influential family in this town. And that walking mouthpiece Skye Quartermaine is the worst of them without comparison. She has taken every opportunity she gets to vilify me before anyone who'll listen to her. Stephan has made attempts to rectify the situation, but I'm afraid he's more concerned with trying to control my nephew's life at the moment."  
  
Hope interrupted her, "Do you want to be a lawyer again?"  
  
For some reason the question put to her so directly had an effect on her. It had been ages since she had stood within the courtroom as its officer. Litigation, the thrill of going to trial, they had been things she'd take for granted until those privileges had been taken from her. But by then, it almost didn't matter anymore because her belief in the system she'd tried to uphold had all but evaporated into thin air. She knew the system didn't work, particularly with the likes of Scott Baldwin roaming it like a dictator. But still, the possibility. wait, what was she thinking? She had no credibility now. What judge would ever award her a proceeding, let alone a case with the cloud of smear that Skye had so effectively carried out against her, hanging over her head? Judges could be prejudiced, no matter what or how they intended.  
  
Hope read her silence correctly and addressed it. "I understand your hesitance, Alexis. What I'm offering you seems impossible, even foolhardy, but it's not. I travel in much higher, exclusive circles than the Quartermaines have dared to dream of. A few well placed calls, and I wager that you could be back to your legal eagle ways within days."  
  
"Hold on. Did you say days?" Alexis asked, incredulous.  
  
"Yes," Hope replied calmly. "Is that not soon enough for you?"  
  
"Soon enough? Do you turn pumpkins into chariots as well?"  
  
"I'm sorry?"  
  
Alexis shook her head, "This sounds to good to be true. To get my license back, the courts would have to deem me fit, the bar would require evaluations.."  
  
"All formalities. Highly unnecessary for what I have in mind for you."  
  
"What you have in mind? Well fairy godmother, you'd better tell me just what that is."  
  
"I have a number of plans in progress that require the use of a well experienced lawyer. You have a strong background in contracts in addition to your criminal specialties."  
  
Alexis refused to respond to the deliberate remark. "And so?" she asked.  
  
"And so," Hope mimicked, "to ensure that these plans are completed without delay or glitch, I want you to help oversee them."  
  
"What's the nature of these plans?"  
  
"You'll see soon enough. None of them are illegal if that's what worries you. A bit roguish maybe, but certainly not unlawful."  
  
The offer was tempting, but Alexis was still unconvinced.  
  
"Would it make you feel better if in the process of these plans, you could stick one to the Quartermaines? Skye and Edward especially?"  
  
Alexis almost sat bolt upright. "How?" she asked carefully.  
  
"Again, all in due time. But you have to decide first. Are you going to assist me in exchange for me helping you?"  
  
"I'll have to think about it."  
  
"Sorry, can't do. Either it's today, or never."  
  
"You can't expect me to make a decision like this in minutes. There are other things to consider."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"Like.like," honestly Alexis didn't know. She was stalling for time and Hope knew it.  
  
Hope leaned in from her perch on the chair, onto her elbows, bringing her hands together in front of her face in the form of a steeple. "Look Alexis, I'm offering you an opportunity of a lifetime," she began, her fingers clasping together, and then pointing at Alexis. "You can have your life back, and I mean all of it. It's certainly a lot more than what you have right now. You're hiding out on an island with your daughter for crying out loud. What kind of a life is that?"  
  
Alexis started defensively, "I'm not hiding out."  
  
"Of course you are!" Hope cut in sharply. "You know, you remind me of what I was like many years ago. Life dealt me a series of harsh blows so devastating, I thought curling may tail and running with what little I had left was the answer. But I was foolish then. I'm wise enough to know now that life doesn't work like that. Not for those who win, who take risks, in spite of what's happened before. When knocked down, you stand up and fight your aggressors. Not stupidly, but cleverly, coolly, working the rules to your advantage, following them when you can, breaking them when necessary. It has nothing to do with right or wrong. It's just the law of nature."  
  
"You sound like Stephan. He swears by the amoral life."  
  
"And you don't? I give your brother credit for being a smart man. Even you know to live to be righteous and noble makes you either weak or a hypocrite. To live to survive simply ensures that you will."  
  
Convicted, Alexis couldn't refute her logic. Trying to do the right thing had gotten her sister killed. Fighting back foolishly left her abandoned in the snow in premature labour and lost her custody of Kristina. Meanwhile the ones who never adhered to the same rules almost always won. Skye, Sonny, Carly, Jason, even her brother. She'd had enough and was ready to gamble for her share now.  
  
"What assurance do I have that your plans won't jeopardize the welfare of my daughter?"  
  
"No harm will come to Kristina, and you will not lose custody of her. Like I said, my plans are well within the realms of the law and any real risks to be taken will be made by me. You're job will simply be as my legal handler of my various commercial endeavours. No more, no less."  
  
Alexis studied her closely. The shine in her eyes had never left and seemed to grow brighter as they talked. Those eyes told her that this woman was no liar and that if she gave her word, she meant it. Woe to you if that word was bad. Alexis wondered what had happened to Hope to make her this way; so unabashedly ambitious and determined.  
  
"You've made a compelling case," Alexis finally said. "I agree to your terms. For now."  
  
"Good." Hope answered. "I'll start making arrangements ASAP. In the meantime, I have a project for you."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Yes." Hope stood up and walked out from behind the desk as she pulled an envelope from her purse and handed it to her. "In there you'll find contracts for a purchase that the seller has signed and instructions as to how it shall be completed. Look over it and ensure that everything is in order and that the transfer is made to and from the accounts listed correctly by 8 pm tonight."  
  
"Anything else?" Alexis asked airily.  
  
"Yes. Expect a package to arrive here by messenger early tomorrow," Hope said. "It'll be for you."  
  
"More contracts?"  
  
"No. Your notification from the state bar that your legal license has been reinstated."  
  
Dumbstruck, Alexis asked, " I thought you said a few days?"  
  
Hope began to make her way to the study doors, "It was an overestimation. No need to get up. I'll show myself out." Smiling triumphantly to herself, she left the study and Windermere. As for her soon to be new attorney, she left her speechless.  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Given what she had managed to accomplish today, Hope should have been feeling much more self-satisfied. The phone call to the New York State Attorney General's office had taken less time than the ferry ride back to the docks. By the time she had disembarked onto the pier, the General had eagerly agreed to put into action Alexis' reinstatement and insisted that she attend his next dinner party. The old boy had owed her a favour for getting him out of a jam in Tripoli that could have been tremendously crippling to his political career. Knowing this, Hope had little doubt that he would do his part and come through on his promise. At least he would if he knew what was good for him, she thought ruefully. The call had been the easy part and had little to do with what kept her preoccupied now.  
  
Taking a walk along the pier, she found herself at the same spot she had encountered the male stranger the night before. She wondered what he'd been doing there at that hour in the rain. She was certainly grateful for his preventing her ungraceful nosedive onto the wet ground and offer to use his umbrella, yet she couldn't shake the feeling the chance meeting had meant something more. Furthermore, she couldn't decide whether the something more was good or bad.  
  
Taking a seat on the bench stationed there, she sat back and gazed out over the harbour. Her curiosity was a diversion. She knew very well what was eating away at her. It was this plan. The perfect plan, she mused. Her chance to set straight all that had been teetering for too long. The payback that would lay to final rest ghosts that continued to haunt her and level the score with the woman whose unyielding abuse and self-centeredness plagued her and everyone she'd loved all her life.  
  
"Faith," she uttered aloud to no one.  
  
Hope closed her eyes as the vivid memories of anguish resurfaced and travelled through her brain incessantly. They replayed in her mind every hurt, every injury she had endured at the hands of her elder sister. The lies, conspiracies, treachery, murder. Hope forced her eyes open to keep from seeing red. She could feel her blood pressure start to rise, but ushered herself to be calm.  
  
Now is not the time to lose your cool, she coached herself. If this plan is going to work, nothing and no one can get in your way, especially yourself. The emotion must go; everything must go cold.  
  
'But can it?' asked an unfamiliar voice in her head.  
  
She had wrestled with this very question from the moment she'd chosen to take action and leave Europe. Faith's reign of terror had gone on long enough. Someone had to stop her, and she was the only person that truly knew her, and how to successfully defeat her at her own game. Cagey and cunning, Hope was now the predator and no longer the prey. She had honed her skills for many years, predominantly in preparation. And Faith would be her litmus test. The only way to deal with your aggressors was to efficiently subvert them. The success of this plan would determine how well she had truly learnt and mastered this lesson.  
  
'What about Catherine?' came the voice again.  
  
The promise she had made her grandmother, Hope knew, would have to be broken for her to go through with this. She remembered it well. End this war, get on with your life, she'd begged her, and never look back.  
  
But that was before Faith killed her.  
  
'You don't know that she did.'  
  
She killed her. Deep in her soul, Hope knew this. Faith was the only one with real motive, the only one to be that insanely driven. Faith had killed family for money before, and it was for that reason Hope convinced Catherine to have her will rewritten. Eventually Faith would turn on her too, just as she did on their father. Once Roscoe died or went to jail and left her with nothing, Catherine would be next. Her grandmother had agreed about the will, but refused to leave Port Charles with Hope. She did not fear her granddaughter, she'd said.  
  
"You should have Grams," Hope whispered. She closed her eyes again and felt a tear trying to make its way through. She blinked it back. Why am I doing this to myself? To what end does this make?  
  
'Because you need to see her,' the voice said. 'You need to see them all.'  
  
I know, Hope agreed. Getting up, she began the walk she'd long dreaded. It was time to pay her family a visit.  
  
************************************************************  
  
As Hope stared out over the bay warring with her conscience, Ric too stood silently by his hotel window, gazing across the bustling city below him. It had been only a few days since he had been back, but it seemed to take only two minutes after his plane had landed for Faith to sniff him out like a bloodhound. Even as he stood in his hotel room, Faith rambled to him the entire goings on of Port Charles while he'd been gone. He didn't care. All he cared about was Elizabeth, and it was for her and her alone he'd returned. Faith had just finished telling him about the nuptials of Jason and Courtney when he finally interrupted her.  
  
"Has Elizabeth's sight returned?"  
  
Faith rolled her eyes, then answered, "Yeah, it came back months ago. She's back to her Georgia O'Keefe routine of painting things that still don't matter. And from what I understand, she's keeping good company too, particularly at night, with Zander Smith."  
  
Faith's remark had been deliberate, he knew. Its purpose served to remind him that he had no better chance with Elizabeth today than he'd had a year ago when he'd left. But to know that Elizabeth was moving on with someone else still stung him. Back then, she'd believed he'd run her down with a car and caused her blindness. Really it had been Courtney, meanwhile Carly and Lorenzo had conspired to cover it up and Sonny had let Ric take the fall. Without a moment to defend or explain, Elizabeth had believed the worst in him. He'd certainly given her enough reason too. For revenge, he threw away all the love they'd shared, lied to her, endangered her life and deceived her. She had no reason to believe there was any good left in him, and he'd hadn't any either, so he'd granted her what she had wanted most. He left Port Charles, without the intention of coming back.  
  
Fate's a wily thing. It goes where it wants, and takes those it wishes where it will.  
  
"Why so pensive?" Faith asked him.  
  
"I've got a lot on my mind," he replied.  
  
Faith arched an eyebrow. "Like what?"  
  
"Nothing I feel like sharing thanks," he answered, his back still facing her.  
  
"Oh no, please, please do not tell me that after all this time, you are still stuck on Elizabeth?"  
  
Ric's jaws tensed. "Fine I won't."  
  
Faith didn't let up. "I can't believe you're still stuck on her. Don't you get it yet? She doesn't want you. Or did you somehow miss that the first 10, 000 times she rejected you?"  
  
"I'll always care about what happens to Elizabeth. Nothing and no one can change that."  
  
Faith rolled her eyes again. "Well stop worrying about her and start worrying about what Sonny and Lorenzo are going to do to you once they know you're back in town. Your absence has not made their hearts any less hateful of you, you know."  
  
Ric turned from the window and walked over to over to one of his bags. Out of it, he pulled a laptop and set it down on a desk in the room. "I could care less what Sonny and Lorenzo think of my return," he stated. Powering the machine on, he sat in front of the screen, tapping away suddenly, then stopping, just the same. He watched it with scrutiny. "I have more important things on my mind," he concluded.  
  
Repositioning herself in her chair, Faith attempted to peer over Ric's shoulder at the computer, but he blocked her view, and then quickly slammed the screen shut.  
  
"What did you do that for?" Faith demanded. "And what was that red dot on the screen?"  
  
"None of your concern," he said tersely. "Don't you ever get tired of prying into affairs that don't concern you? Don't you have anything better to do than follow me around and harass me?"  
  
"For someone whose very freedom and life they owe to my tremendous generosity," she started angrily, "in spite of the way you've treated me, you could be a hell of lot nicer. It's obvious you've got some kind of plan or you wouldn't have taken the risk to come back here. Trust me for crying out loud. You know you can, and let me help you."  
  
"Why," he asked disbelievingly.  
  
"Because we both want the same thing," she said coaxingly, as she moved out of her chair towards him, placing her hands on his shoulders. She started to massage them as she continued. "We want control over our enemies. And we can do that by taking away Sonny and Lorenzo's precious power. You and I both know that that's the only thing that means anything to them really. It's what allows them to bully and abuse whomever they want. But you and I could change that. Come on Ric, your smarts, my determination, we could rule this city. We."  
  
Ric turned abruptly away from her probing hands and got out of his seat. "You mean you don't you Faith?" he accused her. "You honestly expect me to believe that you don't want to use me as your next "meal ticket", like the way you tried to use your husband and Ned Ashton? Don't waste anymore of my time. I didn't come here for this or you."  
  
"Oh, I know. You came for the little Tinkerbell," she mocked.  
  
"If you don't like it, you know where you can go," he told her.  
  
Faith was more than put off this time, she was downright furious. Her eyes glowered as her voice dropped low and menacing with a retort. "Oh don't you worry sweetheart, because I guarantee that you'll get there long before I do."  
  
"Just get out of here, will you?"  
  
"You've crossed me for the last time Ric."  
  
He shouted at her this time. "God Faith, just get the hell out!"  
  
Faith turned to grab her purse and marched out of the room, slamming the door fiercely behind her. Letting out a heavy sigh of exasperation, Ric refocused his attention on the laptop again, lifting the screen to re- examine the red light Faith had noticed from before. It had held the same position for several hours now. All right, he thought as he sat down again, trying to calm himself down. Whatever you're up to, I'm onto you. I can wait. Settling back into his chair, he patiently began the next phase of his watch.  
  
************************************************************  
  
His mood had steadily darkened as the car drew closer to White Oaks Memorial Gardens. Skye had rode with him part way: he'd insisted on dropping her off first at ELQ's headquarters. She had chatted about her interest in acquiring Luke Spencer's club and how Edward, as usual, was conniving against her to purchase it for himself, but Lorenzo had barely contributed to the very much one-sided conversation. And Skye had noticed.  
  
"Do you figure that if AJ and I work together, that we could successfully find a way to declare Edward senile and have him sent as an experiment on the next shuttle to Mars? And hopefully strand him there?" she tested him.  
  
"Mars is too close," Lorenzo commented.  
  
"I was starting to wonder if you were listening at all," she'd said.  
  
"I'm always listening," he'd answered.  
  
"You're still not going to tell me what's got you so serious and quiet, are you?"  
  
He kept silent.  
  
"Alright, I guess that's my answer," she'd said.  
  
He honestly hadn't meant to shut her out, and he supposed that deep down, she meant well. However, he also knew that the task at hand was one he had to endeavour alone; and try as he may, he just didn't feel quite comfortable discussing the issue with her, or for that matter, with anyone.  
  
Skye hadn't seemed upset when she'd stepped out of the limo upon arrival at ELQ. But somehow, the slam of the car door after she'd bid him goodbye begged to suggest otherwise. No matter, he thought. Appeasing her would have to wait until later.  
  
"Senor Alcazar?" called Tomas.  
  
The young man stood patiently as he held open the door in wait for his employer to disembark. So deep in thought, Lorenzo had hardly noticed when the car had come to a complete stop in the parking lot of their destination.  
  
"We've arrived Senor," Tomas said without inflection.  
  
Wordlessly, Lorenzo got out of the vehicle and walked to the main entrance of the graveyard.  
  
************************************************************  
  
The only other time Hope had walked through the old White Oaks cemetery was for her mother's burial. That day, she strode silently next to her grandmother within the procession while Faith had walked next to their father behind the casket. Hope remembered Catherine trying to hold her hand, but the pre-teen had refused. She also recalled how surprised she was to feel so lonely and unnoticed amidst the crowd of unrecognisable mourners that had surrounded them. Then, as often now in this most recent stage of her life, she was a lone spirit against the backdrop of life. More days than not, she didn't mind it, but some days, and those days were perilous ones, it nearly drove her insane.  
  
Instinctually, she meandered a trail to her mother's grave marker. She knew she would find her father's and husband's stones there too, for that was where she'd requested they be buried. She wondered if Catherine's would be there as well. Her family had been anything gut close knit in life. The hint of irony at them being together forever in death seemed to Hope not only darkly amusing, but also just.  
  
Within minutes, Hope stood before four headstones at the summit of a steep hill. From this vantage point, one could see and be seen throughout the entire memorial garden. She glanced briefly at her surroundings before settling her gaze back on her interred relatives. One after the other, her eyes read the names and messages engraved across the marker faces. To her, they served only as grim reminders of people she'd loved harder then they had ever loved themselves. The more she read, the more hostile she became at them and their so-called memories.  
  
Lies, she thought, all lies. Her mind began to rumble with the force of a train wreck.  
  
'Dearly departed,' read the first stone, belonging to her mother. Hope's heart filled with bitterness. What's dear about jumping off a cliff, she thought? The woman's comatose parental habits and eventual suicide had rendered Hope invisible and alienated. She hadn't paused a second, despite her youngest daughter's screaming attempt to save her, before hurling herself headfirst off the cliffs of Spoon Island. In death, as in life, her children had meant nothing to her. Her mother was irresponsible at best. Next was her father's stone. 'A man of stature and grace' it said. She stared in disbelief. Had she asked for that to be written? Not even in the heaviest depths of sorrow would she ever have uttered a fable such as that. Her father was a master manipulator, an abuser, a liar and a criminal. Although she had brokered an uneasy peace with him before his most suspicious death, the sense of loss had quickly diminished in the face of a greater sense of rage.  
  
Hope's late husband, Henry Theron made the next grave marker. 'Here rests a brave soul' was the message engraved across his stone. Hope was so angry she wanted to spit. Here rests a corrupted, deceitful soul, was the more apt description, she fumed. You swore up and down that you would choose death over betraying me, but while you did that, you conspired with Frisco Jones and the WSB and planted wires in my house, my car, my clothes and even my canvases, on the chance opportunity that a member of my family would incriminate themselves before me. Hope was jumping up and down, noiselessly punching her fist into the air before her. Well you got your wish, didn't you? But you got it in reverse. It would have been better if you had died first, than to have left me here feeling a fool for having ever believed I meant something to you.  
  
Hot tears now fell down her cheeks unchecked as she continued her silent rant atop the shade-less hill. She had only to look upon her grandmother's stone before the vicious beast in her fully escaped and unleashed its complete wrath upon her system. Every hurt, every loss, every rejection and all the horrific grief she had harboured for almost 20 years rushed at her in a maelstrom, threatening to collapse her from the inside out and leave her trembling in fear in its wake. Hope looked up at a sky spinning blood red. Somewhere in the cavern of her mind, she thought she heard a man's voice, but it too vanished into the vacuum that enveloped her whole being. The last thing she remembered was the world turning to black. Her legs gave way; she fell.  
  
************************************************************  
  
Tomas, having worked as one of Lorenzo Alcazar's men only three months, had proven himself dangerously efficient, in addition to being deeply mild- mannered. Conscientious and highly observant, he had made it his specialty to remain unheeded until necessary, which in Lorenzo's line of work made a man an invaluable asset. Rarely known to speak unless spoken to, it was the young man's sudden sharp cry that arose Lorenzo from his own personal tumult and urgently gripped his attention.  
  
"Dios Mio! That woman has collapsed," Tomas had said.  
  
Lorenzo turned his eyes in the direction of the young man's pointing finger to what looked like a body at the top of the hill in the middle of the cemetery. Without hesitation, he ran towards it, with Tomas right behind him. Upon reaching the summit he discovered the body was a woman, dressed in white, lying motionless on the ground. With her back facing him, he couldn't tell if she had suffered any injury, so he turned her body towards him and realized with shock the unconscious woman was the one he had met the night before on the docks.  
  
He reached out his hand to her neck to feel a pulse, but before he could, luminous blue eyes flew open to greet him, first with bewilderment and fear, then with wild aggression. She immediately recoiled from his touch.  
  
"Who? What? What happened? Where'd you come from?" she demanded.  
  
Although he fully understood her confusion, Lorenzo couldn't help feeling slightly stung by the accusing look she gave him.  
  
"My man saw you collapse and we came to see if you were alright," he answered with the subtlest hint of defence.  
  
Having just barely caught his slight tone and the earnestness in his eyes, her stare eventually changed from suspicious to more apologetic.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said, finally recognizing him, and then, recalling painfully her attack and how she ended up on the ground. "I don't know what came over me. I'm fine now, you don't have to worry."  
  
Lorenzo was unconvinced. "Shall I call an ambulance for you?"  
  
"No, no," she protested. "I'm fine really. I just." Just what? Had a near nervous breakdown? How on Earth do you explain that to a stranger?  
  
"Just what?" he asked.  
  
Hope quickly looked away and tried to get up. She felt her head rush. "Had a bad moment," she managed, raising a hand to her head. Lorenzo reached out to help her up, but she held him back.  
  
"It's okay," she said.  
  
"You keep saying that, but you look pale," he said concerned.  
  
Finally getting to her feet, she looked up at him and smiled. "I'm just realizing I haven't had anything to eat today. And it's bright out here. Maybe it was the sun." She was grasping at straws, but she was willing to say just about anything right now to make him and his shadow she recalled as his chauffer, go away. His fussing was beginning to make her feel embarrassed.  
  
Lorenzo wasn't a fool; he could sense her reluctance to have him hover over her. It was the same reluctance she had shown him on the pier in the rain. He looked behind her at the group of headstones. These were probably her loved ones buried here, for whom her grief had overwhelmed her. It couldn't have been easy to face this alone, but in spite of it all, she did. That took an inner fortitude that most people didn't have. Without effort, he found himself in admiration of her.  
  
"Is there anyone you want to call, who can come for you? If you've had a bout of sunstroke, perhaps a doctor should have a look at you."  
  
Was this guy for real? "I'll be fine," she repeated more firmly this time. "Once I get into some shade and grab some water, I'm sure I'll start feeling much better." She tried to walk away from him and down the hill under her own power but stopped short. Her head was rushing again and she was starting to feel nauseous. Lorenzo, fearful she might fall again, took her gently by the waist and began to guide her. When Hope looked up at him in annoyance, she saw his grin, "I'm sure you will be fine," he agreed. "But let's just say, for my peace of mind, we find some shade together. I insist."  
  
Hope was feeling too woozy to argue, "Well since you insist how can I refuse," she uttered. She allowed Lorenzo, with Tomas in lead, to walk her out of the sun and to the bottom of the mound.  
  
Chapter 4  
  
The party of three had made it to within the cobble stoned courtyard that served as the main entrance to White Oaks before Hope had requested they stop. Feeling the desperate need to sit down, she moved towards the gazebo at the courtyard's centre, taking a seat on one of its steps to rest.  
  
After giving brief instructions in Spanish to Tomas who disappeared, then reappeared like an apparition with something in his hand, Lorenzo took the object from him and walked to where Hope sat, seating himself on the step next to her.  
  
"Try drinking this," he offered her. Hope looked up from her feet to the small Evian bottle he placed in her hand. "This should help a little," he said.  
  
"Danke, Herr Doktor," she said, loosening the cap.  
  
Lorenzo asked her, "Are you sure you don't want me to take you to the hospital? Sunstroke can be very serious if not treated properly."  
  
"In the elderly," Hope said between gulps.  
  
"In the young as well if they allow themselves too much exposure, and too little water." He stopped to stare at her now empty bottle.  
  
"I'll have Tomas get you another."  
  
"So that's his name," she exclaimed oddly. Hope's mind raced in frenzied disorganization. Maybe she really did have sunstroke, she thought. Her head refused to stop booming and she was starting to feel unusually giddy. Or maybe all the jet lag was finally getting to her, even though she'd never suffered the effects of jet lag before. Suddenly, she found herself wishing mightily for a place to lie down. Her eyes travelled lazily sideways to his lap, then refocused hurriedly on her shoes again.  
  
Meanwhile, Lorenzo continued his silent vigil at her side. No matter what her mouth said, he realized it was her eyes that did the real talking. He furtively watched them as one emotion chased another in rapid succession across elegant features, their depths of blue transitioning from clearest light to inkiest dark with each mood. He had heard of eyes being windows to the soul but never had he witnessed anything like this. It was unusual yet simultaneously breathtaking and disarmingly beautiful. For a brief second he became lost in them.  
  
"You should take a picture. It'll last longer."  
  
The intrusion of words broke the spell.  
  
"Are you always this witty?" he asked with a sigh.  
  
"Today must be an off day. I'm more flip than witty," she replied.  
  
"Who could tell?" he retorted.  
  
"Very good. Glad to see you're a half-wit too. Now we can be witty together, but only for today. Tomorrow, I go back to being flip, then you'll be on your own."  
  
Lorenzo's look was first blank, but then he smiled broadly at her. He had never thought himself the type for banter. But her shot was clever. He was amused, and liked her in spite of himself.  
  
"I apologize," he began. "I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."  
  
"You didn't. Fainting in graveyards is uncomfortable. You just made me a little self conscious."  
  
"You certainly have nothing to feel self conscious about." Hope detected the unadulterated charm in his voice. "I don't think anyone likes being in a graveyard," he continued. "Well, except for the undertakers maybe."  
  
Hope made a face then released a snigger as Lorenzo smiled back at her again. Her ease evoked a sparkle in her eyes bright enough to rival the biggest diamond. That's more like it, he thought. There was a word for the look she wore. His brain over clocked in search, then found it. "Mirth," he said involuntarily aloud.  
  
She tilted her head in surprise, "What was that?"  
  
"Nothing," he said abruptly. He could have kicked himself for letting his guard down like that.  
  
Hope watched him for a moment, eyes still bright, then spoke gently, "Perhaps I shouldn't ask but I will. Who are you here to see?"  
  
Now came Lorenzo's turn to feel uncomfortable. So accustomed was he to keeping his feelings clamped shut, the tenderness with which she made her query affected him to the point of shock. He almost wanted to tell her about Luis and about the growing, compelling urge he had carried for the last year to visit his brother's grave but had stayed with vehemence. It was his duty, he knew, and with the discovery of Sage, he also knew he had to make the trip at least once before bringing her to meet her deceased father. These thoughts, amongst dozens of others, roiled away in him, and for the first time in ages, he felt as if he could share a tiny portion.  
  
But he said nothing.  
  
"I'm sorry if my question was too personal or painful," Hope said. His silence was making her feel very sorry for asking something so invasive. "It's really none of my business," she concluded.  
  
"My brother." Lorenzo's voice was soft to near inaudibility.  
  
Hope looked at him in compassion and common grief. He did not look at her when he spoke but past her, at a zenith only he knew. And she was quite sure, like herself, its vastness haunted him. A part of her wanted to grab his hand and hold it tightly, but she restrained herself.  
  
"You have my sympathy," she said kindly. "It's quite evident you miss him very much."  
  
Lorenzo's eyes refocused on her face at the sound of her voice. He read her eyes again; they shone in the slivers of sunlight through the trees and hanging eaves of the gazebo. He imagined they shone with compassion.  
  
"Our relationship wasn't without its challenges, but we were brothers no less," he stated, attempting to recollect his composure.  
  
"I understand," Hope said.  
  
He sensed something in her voice that made him agree. "I believe you do."  
  
She smiled at him. " Have you gone in yet? I mean to see him."  
  
"No," he said.  
  
"Then go," she implored to him. "Go. Don't put it off any longer. Don't be like me. I know it's hard, but trust me, you'll be glad you did after."  
  
Lorenzo arched an eyebrow. "Trust you, you say? I don't know about that. Are you glad that you went in, given your collapse?"  
  
Hope's look was indecipherable. "Honestly, yes I am. Fainting spell aside, I actually found my visit, cathartic. Hey, whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger right?"  
  
He knew from first hand experience how true the adage of which she spoke was. "Indeed," he said. He stood up, straightened and buttoned his blazer, then turned to look at her again. "Will you be here when I return, or shall I call you a cab?" It surprised him to ask her this only because a part of him hoped she would stay.  
  
"I can stay if you want," she answered, perceiving his pleasure. "I don't have anywhere I have to be right away."  
  
He smiled again, "Alright, I guess I'll see you in a bit. Tomas will wait with you should you need anything," he said nodding in the direction of his man. He had stood only a few feet away the whole time, yet had faded subtly and easily into the background. Hope had forgotten he was there with them.  
  
"Funny how I know your chauffeur's name and not yours," she commented slyly.  
  
"Would you like it?" Lorenzo asked.  
  
"I would," she said.  
  
"Lorenzo. And yours?"  
  
"Hope. Take your time Lorenzo. I'll be here when you come out."  
  
************************************************************  
  
Faith threw back another drink as she sat in the lounge of Ric's hotel. She had considered hopping in her car and making a beeline to Sonny Corinthos to alert him of Ric's whereabouts, but she'd quickly nixed the idea. It wasn't enough to just see Ric suffer and die. If that was all she had wanted, she could have done that herself in his room. No, you have to think this time, she told herself. Not only should you get what you want, but also you need to regain you upper hand.  
  
She knew she would gain nothing by going to Sonny. He'd had golden opportunities the size of beach balls to put away Ric and passed up each one. Last time, he'd even let him escape out of town while trying to pin Elizabeth Webber's hit and run on her. No, Sonny wouldn't do, Faith thought. Besides, she wasn't in the mood for lame insults and playground name-calling.  
  
Lorenzo Alcazar however, was a different bird altogether. She smiled absently to herself while swirling her cocktail glass with one of her bejewelled hands. Now he could be of some use. He wouldn't waste a moment trying to get rid of Ric. And at least with him, she still had a chance to broker some kind of a deal. Truth of the matter was she needed the help, both legally and financially. Reminded of her monetary strife, a disturbing image of her sister's face popped into her head, rude and uninvited. Self- righteous bitch, Faith thought angrily. If the little imp hadn't conspired with their stupid father to steal her inheritance, she wouldn't be in the mess she was in now. Served the old bag of bones right that he was dead. Hope would never understand the favour she had done them both. If she'd known better, Faith realized, she should have killed her too. Ungrateful tramp. But Rosco had promised her that they'd never want for anything. Forget about the money, about Hope, he'd said. Oh yeah, back then her husband had had big plans for them. The Five Families were ready to promise them the world when it came to their attention that she was the granddaughter of the great Marco Flynn. The stupid bastards had shown her respect then, and were pimping Rosco like the best thing since chocolate was invented. But in the end they were all parasites. Rosco saw it too late and got pushed to the side once Sonny killed Frank Smith and took over. But she'd seen it much sooner. It had been her idea to kill Frank in the first place and assume control. She'd told Rosco as much. But he had wanted a pretty wife, not a nosy one.  
  
The glass Faith held slammed the table hard enough to turn the heads of the bar's other patrons. She ignored their looks as her mind proceeded to boil. Simple, stupid idiots! This city and everything in it is my birthright, and those sons of bitches had the audacity to throw me out! There wouldn't be any Five Families if it hadn't been for Marco. She was not only the rightful heir, but also the woman to take that gaggle of rats and turn them into princes and the whole damn organization into a dynasty greater than Marco had ever dreamt. All they had to do was absorb the pixie dust. But no, they'd rather take orders from some two-bit prick from Bensonhurst. In the meantime she had to hide out from the Feds, from her dead husband's debtors, from the almighty Sonny, from Alcazar. No more, her head shook. At long last, she was going to get what was hers, or destroy everything and everyone trying.  
  
She pulled out her cell phone to make a call, but stopped when a shadow fell across her view.  
  
"Mrs. Rosco," the man said. "What a fine pleasure it is to at last meet you." He added darkly, "And so much, so much indeed we have to discuss."  
  
************************************************************  
  
Not since he'd been a little boy had he felt so disinclined to be somewhere he didn't want to be. Lorenzo hated graveyards ten times more than Hope did, he was sure. But he did agree with her on one point. The experience had a way of clarifying the mind, and redefining purpose. That was his catharsis. He stood before the small plaque in the ground for the second time that day. Tomas had only finished laying the orchids on it before they had run to Hope's aid. Now there were no distractions. There would be no more distractions. He stared hard at the ground, feeling more determined than ever to punish the people responsible for Luis' death. For Lorenzo, there were no emotional outcries, no shedding of tears; only fact colder than the dirt his brother rested in. He had to destroy Sonny. He had to punish Alexis. Not only for Luis' sake, but for Sage, for himself, and most importantly, for his family's name.  
  
To the onlooker, Lorenzo appeared to be in prayer, his head bowed low and hands folded, one over the other. He lifted it and walked away from his brother, leaving him in peace. But it was with new resolve he walked. No longer would words be needed: only the slow and steady doggedness of revenge.  
  
************************************************************  
  
Ric followed his prey several car lengths behind. The tracking device he had planted had made it unnecessary for him to sustain a close chase. However the further south they travelled along Elm St., the more concerned he became. At this end of the city, there wasn't much aside from Kelly's Diner and the docks. And if memory served him well, Elizabeth would probably be working the evening shift at Kelly's tonight. Slowing to a halt at a busy four-way stop, Ric's hand slipped into the dark pocket beneath the passenger seat, letting his fingers grip the smooth oblong metallic object hidden there. His jaw clenched again when his turn came to proceed through the intersection. If push came to shove, he knew what he had to do and that he had only one shot to do it.  
  
************************************************************  
  
When Lorenzo rejoined Tomas and Hope in the courtyard, the latter greeted him with the most unreadable look he had ever seen.  
  
"That didn't take long," she commented.  
  
Lorenzo looked at her cautiously, and then said, "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Better," she answered, rising to her feet. She made an exaggerated stretch of her arms and upper body. Lorenzo's eye caught the elaborate tattoo design displayed below her exposed tummy and navel. Hope, watching Lorenzo's gaze completed her callisthenic and blinked at him a bright, wily look. "My dizzy spell is gone," she said cheerily. "How are you feeling?"  
  
Lorenzo grinned, "You were right. I'm glad that I came, for various reasons."  
  
"Good," she remarked. Looking at her watch for the first time in hours, she became conscious of the fact that the day was flying and she still had much to do.  
  
"I'm keeping you from something," Lorenzo said.  
  
Hope looked at him. "Not particularly, but I should get going."  
  
Lorenzo gave a quick nod to Tomas, prompting the young man to head out the main entrance towards the parking lot. "Is there anywhere I can take you?"  
  
Shaking her head, she said, "No that won't be necessary. I'm not far from where I need to be."  
  
"Then it will be no trouble to take you to where you are going," he said. Out of the corner of Hope's eye, she saw the limo pull up before the main gates. "You're recovering from sunstroke. It would be careless and insensitive of me to let you go anywhere alone at this time."  
  
"I assure you, I will be fine," Hope countered. Her tone was still mild and polite, but her eyes now gave an unfriendly glint. Lorenzo was certain they'd turned from bright blue to dark azure as she spoke. The metamorphosis fascinated him, but he relented.  
  
"Well if you insist, I suppose I can't refuse," he said.  
  
She gave him a smirk. "Thank you for your help and water today. I suppose I owe you an umbrella and an Evian."  
  
"Keep the umbrella, but I may take you up on the drink," he quipped.  
  
"Under better circumstances I hope," she posed.  
  
"I'm counting on it," Lorenzo grinned.  
  
Hope only eyed him as he left her in the courtyard and entered the waiting limousine. After the vehicle and its occupants had pulled away, she counted to ten Mississippi in her head then turned to re-enter the cemetery. Following her gut instinct and the direction she suspected Lorenzo had travelled to his brother's grave, her eyes shortly found what she had been looking for. "Nice orchids," she muttered softly. Whipping out her cell phone, she pulled out its antenna by the teeth and pressed quickly on the keypad. The other end picked up on the third ring.  
  
"It's me," she said. "Do me a favour and find me everything there is to know about Lorenzo Alcazar." She hung up.  
  
************************************************************  
  
"What did she ask you while I was gone?"  
  
"If I liked working for you," Tomas answered.  
  
Lorenzo almost laughed out loud. "What did you tell her?"  
  
"Yes I did," the young man answered back.  
  
Lorenzo Alcazar smiled to himself. Sitting back, he quietly watched as they glided through the city's quaint suburban streets. At first glance, Port Charles looked as interesting as a pair of worn out shoes. But he'd learned long ago that things were almost never as they at first seemed. Such was the way with all things.  
  
"Tomas," he said.  
  
"Si Senor?"  
  
"Did you see the names on the stones?"  
  
"Flynn and Theron, Senor."  
  
"Find out which of those names is hers. Then find me everything there is to know about her."  
  
Chapter 5  
  
It was going to be one of those days: she could feel it. Her assistant called in sick, the coffee was cold, Luke Spencer still hadn't gotten back to her and his silence spelled Edward Quartermaine all over it.  
  
Skye picked up the phone and dialled.  
  
"Quartermaine Residence."  
  
"Alice it's Skye. What time did Edward leave the house this morning?"  
  
"I presume very early Ms. Quartermaine, but I didn't see him go. He didn't even take his breakfast."  
  
"Well did he mention to you at any point what his plans were for today? Any errands to run or last minute appointments to keep?"  
  
"No, I don't recall him mentioning."  
  
"You don't recall or you won't tell me?"  
  
"Ms. Quartermaine, Mr. Quartermaine does not go over every little detail of his day with me."  
  
"Apparently not" Skye remarked curtly. "As soon as you hear from him, you find out the details of his whereabouts and call me right away. Is that clear Alice?"  
  
"Yes Ms. Quartermaine," was the dry response.  
  
So busy browbeating poor Alice was Skye that she didn't notice one of the men she was in search of holding up the doorframe to her office.  
  
"You looking for me?" Luke asked innocently.  
  
Hanging up the phone, she got up from behind her desk smiling. "Just the man I've been wanting to see. Please come in. Can I get you some coffee? You'll have to pardon the tartness, my assistant called in sick today."  
  
"I'll pass thanks," he answered without smiling back as he walked in and made himself comfortable on her couch.  
  
The vibe he gave her wasn't a good one. Reminded of Lorenzo's surly disposition from the morning, Skye wondered if today was the universal PMS day for men. "So I take it you want to get right to business," she said. "You're here to tell me your decision about my offer?"  
  
"Oh you mean the club?" He waved a careless hand in her direction and smirked at her. "Hell no, I just like the scenery here." Skye rolled her eyes in response as he continued, " But since you mention it, there is something I ought to tell you."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"I sold it."  
  
"You what?" she exclaimed.  
  
"I sold the club," he said more loudly.  
  
"Stop yelling, I heard you the first time," she demanded. " I can't believe after all we discussed you still sold the club to Edward."  
  
"Hold on, who said anything about Edward?"  
  
Skye began again unsure, "You mean Edward didn't buy the club?"  
  
"No sugar, he didn't."  
  
Crossing her arms before her, she interrogated, "Then who did?"  
  
Luke shrugged, "Some hot shot investor my son found. Or maybe she found him. Either way, she wanted it bad enough, so I let her have it."  
  
"She," Skye echoed. "Why am I not surprised?"  
  
Luke made a face, "Oh don't be jealous now. You know I only have eyes for you."  
  
"Cut it out," she snapped. "I thought we had a deal Luke."  
  
"I only said I'd give the idea some thought. Why are you so upset about this? There are tons of dumps across town for you and Edward to squawk over. Why's mine so important?"  
  
Skye didn't answer right away. She wasn't about to confide to Luke of all people what was really motivating her. "You know that Edward didn't give a damn about Luke's until he found out I was interested in buying it from you."  
  
Leaning out of his seat slightly, he said, "But Edward didn't buy the club."  
  
"I know that," she said sardonically. "My point is.hold on." She paused for a moment, giving him a look indictment, "Oh, how could I have not foreseen this?"  
  
Luke looked behind him then back at Skye. "What? What?"  
  
She pointed an accusing finger at him. "You probably went to Edward yourself to pit him against me and start a bidding war to further mark-up the price, only to end up selling the place to some other sap."  
  
Placing an index finger on his chin as if to give the theory serious thought he said, "Come to think of it, that actually does sound like something I'd do." Then added with a shrug, "But not this time. As you recall, both you and Eddy came to me."  
  
"I doubt he would have without your prompting. I know you two go way back. But even if you didn't go to him, you still could have been planning to play us all along."  
  
"Nope, you don't need me for that. Seems you two can entertain each other aplenty without my assistance. Look Skye, simple fact of the matter is after hearing what you and Edward had to offer, I decided on someone else. Nothing personal."  
  
Skye gave him a distrustful look. "Like hell it isn't. What did this investor offer you that I couldn't?"  
  
Luke smiled at the memory of Hope Theron standing in his club. "Plenty, but total control was the main thing."  
  
"You'd have had the same with me," she said.  
  
"No I wouldn't. I'd become the latest pawn in the Q family chess match, or a haven for your fantasy turned too real 'Gangster's Paradise'. Been there, done that, no intention of revisiting the spot."  
  
"The acquisition was strictly about business Luke."  
  
"Exactly, so I made a strictly business deal with a strictly business woman."  
  
"You question my business acumen?"  
  
"Don't need to. You're a Quartermaine. That says it all."  
  
"Meaning?"  
  
"Meaning that if I have two Qs chasing me down for something, it's best if I run in the other direction. I got enough stress of my own."  
  
Skye shook her head, "Luke, I'm disappointed. I didn't think you the type to judge a book by its cover."  
  
"I've read and experienced all kinds cookie. Your kind happens to be my favourite anthology."  
  
"I thought the Cassadines occupied that pedestal," she deadpanned.  
  
Now Luke rolled his eyes. "I burned that novella years ago."  
  
Even though he still annoyed the hell out her, Skye smiled in spite of herself. Luke was slippery, but his frankness about most things appealed to her.  
  
"Alright," she conceded, throwing her hands up. She turned slightly to prop herself against her desk. "I can admit when I've been beat, occasionally. Tell me who this upstart investor is." She added in a hushed voice, "I'm even willing to bet that she's pretty too."  
  
"And you would win that bet my adorable little green eyed monster."  
  
"So who is she?"  
  
"Can't tell ya," he said getting out off the sofa. "She's a silent partner, you know what I mean?"  
  
"That doesn't mean you can't tell me. Come on, who is it?" Luke didn't reply. "Well at least I know it can't be Alexis," she sniped.  
  
Luke eyed her a little too coldly. It unsettled her, but Skye would be the last to admit it. "Watch it sugar, I like you. But I like others better."  
  
"Nothing personal," was all she said.  
  
"I've told you what I came to say. I got things to do." Luke turned to leave.  
  
"Will I at least get an invite to the grand re-opening?" she called sarcastically.  
  
"Sure," he called back. He stopped at the door and turned to add with a wink, "I'll messenger it poison penned, just for you."  
  
"Gee thanks," she mocked. "Bastard."  
  
"I know you love me," Luke called from the hall.  
  
************************************************************  
  
"Why are we here?" Faith insisted impatiently. She tried to twist her arm out of his hand, but the man's vice-like grip only tightened.  
  
"Look through the window Mrs. Rosco and tell me what you see."  
  
She looked through the windows of Kelly's Diner. She saw Elizabeth Webber at the deli counter.  
  
"Some girl serving food at the counter."  
  
"Correction Mrs. Rosco. Elizabeth Webber serving food at the counter."  
  
"How do you know who she is?" she asked.  
  
Tall and distinguished, the elder gentleman gave her a smile that would make most people want to jump out of their skin. It made Faith wish she still had her gun.  
  
"The same way you do Mrs. Rosco. Through my son."  
  
************************************************************  
  
Ric moved into position a few yards away behind some bushes off the side of Kelly's minutes after he had seen Faith get out from the car with his father. From here, he could both watch and listen to their conversation without being detected. Ever so gently, he removed the semi automatic rifle from the cloth he used to conceal it and assembled it, fastening on the silencer.  
  
************************************************************  
  
Faith gave him a look of astonishment.  
  
"You're Ric's father?"  
  
"Trevor Lansing at your service," he declared as he eased his grasp. "However you may call me Trevor. May I call you Faith?"  
  
Faith yanked her arm away and shrugged. "Sure."  
  
"Wonderful. So as you can see Faith, you and I share something in common."  
  
"Our disdain for Elizabeth Webber."  
  
"Oh I don't know if I'd go as far as that. I don't know the girl as personally as you. However, I'm sure you would agree that she's completely unsuitable for my son."  
  
Faith's voice grew soft, "I could care less about her or your son."  
  
Trevor replied, "I disagree Faith. You care a great deal about them, otherwise the mere mention of them wouldn't make you so angry." The hand that he used to grab Faith's arm now moved to her back and guided her away from Kelly's windows, closer to the boardwalk that lead to the docks. Faith would have made a move to get away from him then had it not been for the fact that Trevor had taken her gun from her back at the hotel and held it hidden in his pocket with his other hand. She had taken chances before with crazed men, but something in this man's eyes told her that his lunacy wasn't the kind you gambled with.  
  
Still smiling, in hushed tones he told her, "I know that my son Ric can be very, hmmm, what's the word? Let's call it, wilful. He hates constructive criticism and likes to believe he's always right when clearly he isn't."  
  
Trevor was making it sound like he was complaining about an unruly teenage boy. "So," Faith said. "What's that got to do with me?"  
  
"I believe you and I are the only people who truly know and understand what's best for him. He needs to be guided."  
  
"You mean controlled?"  
  
"For his own good of course. Don't you agree?"  
  
Faith leaned her head toward him and said in an equally hushed tone, "It's like what I said to you earlier. I don't care."  
  
"Oh but you should dear, because you're going to help me." He looked her deep in the eyes and added threateningly, "Whether you want to or not."  
  
************************************************************  
  
Damn, they moved, he cursed in frustration. Ric repositioned himself in an attempt to realign his shot. Within seconds, he once again had both Faith and Trevor lined up. Yet, before he could pull the trigger, a dull thud sounded from the back of his skull, turning his vision to a flash of white then impending black.  
  
************************************************************  
  
"Senor Alcazar?"  
  
Lorenzo turned his attention from his laptop to Tomas who stood just inside his apartment door.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"It has been brought to our attention that an unmarked shipping vessel is scheduled to dock at Pier 49 at 9:45 this evening."  
  
Lorenzo's brow furrowed, "I didn't authorize any shipment for this evening."  
  
"I'm aware of that Senor," the young man assured.  
  
"Well, did you find out who did?"  
  
"Upon trying to communicate via radio to the ship's captain, we were unable to uncover anything definitive. He does not speak English."  
  
"What language does he speak?"  
  
"Russian."  
  
Lorenzo rested his chin on his hand as he once again diverted his gaze to the laptop screen. Suddenly, he grinned and said, "Have the men waiting at the pier by 9:30."  
  
"Shall I have them inspect the cargo?"  
  
"Why not?" he said breezily. "Who knows? We might find ourselves some hidden treasure."  
  
************************************************************  
  
Ric opened his eyes just in time to have his face doused in cold water.  
  
"What the--?" he gargled  
  
"Oh sorry," a female voice snickered. "I didn't expect you to wake up that instant."  
  
Coughing, then shaking his soaked head, Ric wiped his eyes and tried to focus on the face of his tormentor. When he did, his jaw dropped.  
  
"My God! Hope?" he cried. "What the hell is going on here?"  
  
Hope gave him a disenchanted look. "Wow man, it's good to see you too."  
  
Ric's mind couldn't stop reeling, "But, how did you.where did you.?"  
  
"Get here? Come from? It's okay man, if you just relax a little, the words will start to form sentences without any effort at all."  
  
"Relax?" he reverberated. "You're telling me to relax? How? One minute I'm behind Kelly's about to-,"  
  
"Shoot the crap out of two people and the next you get a bump to the head and the lights go out right?" she finished.  
  
"Right," he agreed uncertainly.  
  
Hope grinned broadly, "That was me."  
  
"What was?"  
  
"The bump. I hit you over the head," she explained proudly.  
  
It was when he tried to get up, that he realized he was lying down on a bed in the first place. He had wanted to rise up in outrage, but instead managed only to bring about an uprising of heavy throbbing in his temples. His hand reached up to massage one of them when he asked, "Why would you do a thing like this?"  
  
With a rueful look, Hope set down the cup of water she'd still been holding and grabbed the ice pack off the bureau. Holding the pack against the growing bump on his head, she began softly, "I didn't mean to hit you so hard. I didn't realize it was you until you were on the ground. I just saw the back of your head and the barrel of your gun and assumed the worst."  
  
"You could have said something first," he complained.  
  
"Oh really," she laughed. "Like what?" Pretending to clear her throat she aped, "Excuse me sir, but is that a gun you're holding, or are you just happy to see me?"  
  
Ric looked up at her just so she could see his utter annoyance. "I can see you haven't changed much. Flippant as ever."  
  
"It's the charm of me," she smiled. "Miss me much?"  
  
"Not until my head stops hurting. Wait! Oh my God! Elizabeth!"  
  
"What about her?"  
  
"She's in danger--,"  
  
"No she's not." Hope calmly refuted.  
  
"Of course she is," he said petulantly. "Faith and my father--"  
  
"You mean those two people you were going to shoot? They left."  
  
"No, that can't be right."  
  
"Ric look around you. Where are we?"  
  
He looked. The room appeared familiar, but he didn't have time to decipher why. He tried to get up again.  
  
"Hope I don't have time for riddles, I have to find Elizabeth--,"  
  
"We're in my room above Kelly's Ric. And if Elizabeth is who I think she is, I just saw her downstairs two minutes before you woke up and she looked hunky-dory to me."  
  
Ric stared blankly at her. "We're above Kelly's? How'd you get me up here?"  
  
"It wasn't easy, especially with a that pocket canon of mass destruction you were sporting. I had to drag you up the fire escape at the end of the hallway."  
  
He looked her over then made a face. She looked lean, but not mean. She didn't look like she'd held an excess pound in 10 years. "I have at least 40lbs on you. There's no way."  
  
Hope extended an arm and contracted it. "One of these days this fist will punch a hole right into you," she sang.  
  
While she flexed, Ric noticed the tattoo of a sword and a sickle on the inside of her wrist and forearm. "Well Popeye," he teased, "what have you been doing all these years? And where's Hank?"  
  
Her congeniality deflated quicker than a popped balloon. "He's not here," she said unpromisingly.  
  
"Then where is he?" he persisted.  
  
"He's dead."  
  
The revelation rendered him dumbstruck. Henry Theron, quite possibly the closest and most genuine friend he'd ever made, dead? Memories of the years he'd spent attending Harvard with the brash yet clever, charismatic and idealistic law student cascaded into his mind. Hope, then a sweet but sassy Art History Masters student and loyal sidekick completed their little capital gang, as the duo contributed to Ric's only experience of a real family before he'd met Elizabeth. He recalled the secret infatuation he'd harboured for Hope during those years, and his heartbreak at the revelation that she'd long loved his best friend, and that Hank returned her affection. He remembered their wedding, giving Hope away, and the promises they'd made to always remain close and loyal no matter what obstacles fate placed before them. Ric had long since broken his end of the deal, but never had he stopped to doubt he could make it up.  
  
Minutes of silence passed between them until Hope placed a hand on Ric's shoulder. He looked up at her, eyes full of dejection.  
  
"How long ago?" he asked.  
  
"Eight years," she told him.  
  
"How? I mean, was he sick or was there an accident?"  
  
"He was murdered."  
  
"My God, murdered?" Hope could see the tears welling up in his eyes. "Who would.? He didn't have an enemy in the world."  
  
"Yes he did," she said and added in her mind, himself.  
  
Ric still couldn't believe it, "Were they caught at least? Jailed?"  
  
"This is Port Charles we're talking about Ric. For Hank's slayer to have been caught and punished would mean that the judicial system here actually worked. It doesn't."  
  
"Hold on, this happened here in Port Charles?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"What were you doing here?"  
  
"After we returned from Europe, we thought we would settle here. I was born here Ric. My family is from here; they have history in this town. And I was foolish enough to believe we could make a new history, a home in this place. It was the worst decision I could have ever made."  
  
Ric stood up and placed sympathetic hands on her shoulders. He could see the emotions she stubbornly held at bay churning deep within her eyes. His heart broke for her.  
  
"You can't blame yourself for what happened Hope," he said softly.  
  
"I don't," she said. "The only thing I blame myself for is my naivety and mishandling of the situation. I was a fool Ric." Her voice began to quake.  
  
"Hope Theron, you are not, never have been and never will be, a fool." He gripped her shoulders tighter. "If there is a fool to be had in this, it's me. I should have been there for you. Why didn't you try to contact me?"  
  
"I'd thought about it. I'd thought about you a lot. But after Hank and I went to Europe, we hadn't heard from you.and.it was." She didn't want to do this. She'd rehashed the past once already today. She wasn't in the mood to do it again. The story was too long to tell and she didn't know how to explain to Ric that the friend he'd known and now mourned died long before Hank's murder.  
  
"I can't--," she began.  
  
"Shhhh, you don't have to," he soothed, drawing her into his arms to hold her. "It was my fault. I should've kept in touch. I should have come for you."  
  
"People lose touch Ric," she said pulling away.  
  
"Not us. You two were the second best thing that ever happened to me. You and Hank, you were my family. Hank was like my brother. When I think of the years I've wasted on all the things that don't really matter, only to discover I've lost my brother-,"  
  
"You haven't wasted anything," Hope interrupted. She smiled, "You're here now, and that makes me very happy. Until I hit you in the head, the world was very lonely."  
  
A tear rolled down his cheek, but Ric had to laugh. "Same old Hope," he said. They embraced.  
  
Chapter 6  
  
"You know, you didn't have to come today. I'm off in half an hour."  
  
"I know," Zander replied. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."  
  
Elizabeth made a face, "I think I'll be just fine. I mean come on, it's still light out."  
  
"All the same, I'm still walking you home," he insisted. "Besides, I enjoy the company."  
  
Elizabeth smiled. Ever since her accident and the temporary blindness that had resulted, Zander had selflessly stood by her, in spite of the break up of his marriage to Emily Quartermaine. Sometimes, though, she wondered if Zander didn't need the friendly support as much as she did.  
  
"Well, you know your company is more than welcome. And it's good for business. Since you came in, that group of girls in the corner table have ordered three more rounds of Slushies."  
  
Zander turned on his stool enough to glance at the table Liz referred to. A gaggle of four seemingly adolescent girls smiled back at him then proceeded to giggle incessantly.  
  
"Methinks you're a hit with the ladies," she chided.  
  
"Yeah," he agreed. "Now if only I could sing, I'd be on my way to American Idol."  
  
Liz laughed, "Hell, I'd vote for you." Together they laughed at the idea. This was just what she needed; to trade laughter and moments with a good friend, she thought. Since the nightmares had started, it had felt like forever since she'd laughed about anything.  
  
Zander appeared to read her mind, "It's good to hear you laugh about something. Even if it's at my expense."  
  
"Hey, you were laughing too."  
  
Raising his hands up in defence, he said, "Hey I know, I'm not complaining. You talk to my dad yet about those bad dreams you been having?"  
  
Liz's expression changed from amused to more serious, "No I haven't. Although I did give it some thought." Zander had suggested on more than one occasion that she make an appointment with his father, Dr. Cameron Lewis, to discuss and perhaps shed some light on what could be causing the troubling dreams. The suggestion made sense, but deep down, Liz wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer.  
  
Playing psychic again, Zander asked her, "You don't want to know what's causing them do you? Or have you already figured it out and you don't want to admit it?"  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded a little too briskly.  
  
"Ric Lansing isn't coming back. There's too much here he's running away from."  
  
"Who said anything about me hoping Ric would come back?"  
  
"That's what you think the dreams mean, don't you?"  
  
Liz wasn't sure what the dreams meant. As an artist, she felt comfortable at interpreting varying levels of abstraction. But the series of dreams and nightmares she'd had were on a whole new level. She'd even resorted to keeping a journal in an attempt to identify any recurring themes or symbols, but with little success. The only commonality they seemed to share was her ex-husband's presence at their conclusion. The content of the dreams themselves held no inherent peril or threats. In fact, in most cases, they encompassed the normal sense of fantasy that dreams were known for. But the ending was always the same. Ric would materialize attempting to relay a message to her in a sudden and overwhelmingly frightening absence of sound. And always, his arrival would awake her in a cold sweat. It had gotten to the point that she didn't want to sleep. One night Zander had found her wandering the docks past the witching hour, almost delusional from her self-induced insomnia. From then on he'd spent nights with her at the studio so she wouldn't be alone when she awoke from one of these disturbing reveries.  
  
"Maybe," she finally said.  
  
Zander didn't like the sound of this. "What else do you think they could mean?" he asked. Shortly after her sight had returned, these 'reveries' as Liz referred to them, had begun. Roughly a month later, the night he'd found her roaming the docks, she confided to him about their occurrence. Their frequency and intensity had increased as of late; she'd even tried painting one of them. Although he wouldn't give it away, he was really starting to worry about their significance to her, both personally and in general.  
  
"Ric could be in trouble," she proposed.  
  
"Ric is trouble," Zander said flatly.  
  
"Not funny."  
  
"Wasn't trying to be."  
  
"Oh Zander, I don't know." She almost sounded exasperated.  
  
"That's why I keep telling you to talk to my dad. He gets paid to figure out this kind of stuff. Or at least help people cope with this sort of thing."  
  
Elizabeth remained reluctant, "I don't know, we'll see."  
  
"This isn't about guilt or anything, is it?"  
  
"Why would I feel guilty?"  
  
"Because when Ric left town, you thought he'd run you over. Now you know that's not true, could it be you're just feeling guilty about wrongly accusing him and your subconscious is just manifesting that in you dreams?"  
  
"Well golly Dr. Phil, why don't you tell me?'  
  
"I'm being serious," he bemoaned.  
  
"And I'm tired of this topic." Elizabeth stopped talking for what appeared like no reason momentarily, then out of nowhere said, "That woman."  
  
Zander looked every which-way asking, "What woman?"  
  
"The woman that came down for the ice pack. Is that her purse on the stool next to you?" she pointed.  
  
He shrugged, "Maybe."  
  
"Hey Liz," Penny called as she walked into Kelly's almost out of breath. "Sorry I'm late."  
  
"Oh, you know, I didn't even realize it was after six already. No worries, it's been pretty quiet anyway."  
  
"Okay, just give me five minutes to put down my stuff."  
  
"Take your time Penny." Liz turned back to face Zander, but her eyes were still on the handbag.  
  
He asked her, "Do you know what room she's in?"  
  
"I don't even know her name."  
  
"We can look in her wallet," he volunteered reaching for the bag's strap.  
  
Liz stretched over the counter to slap his hand down. "Don't do that. What if she came down and saw you?"  
  
"Then we'd tell her the truth."  
  
She rolled her eyes. Guys could be so daft sometimes. "You never go through a woman's purse Zander. There could be stuff in there that she wouldn't want strangers to see. What do you want to do, embarrass her?"  
  
Zander turned away from the bag. "Okay fine," he conceded. "We'll just give it to Penny and she can keep it 'till she comes down again."  
  
Penny emerged form the kitchen tying her apron. " 'Till who comes down?" she asked.  
  
Elizabeth began, "There's this woman with long dark hair, very blue eyes and dark skin, really pretty, upstairs--"  
  
"And she has a tattoo right?" Penny chirped.  
  
"She has a tattoo?" Liz asked.  
  
"Yeah, she checked into number six last night. When she took off her jacket, she had this cool dragon tattoo on her shoulder. I asked her where she got it. She said in France. She was pretty nice. Hope was her name."  
  
"Hot and she's got a tattoo? My kind of woman sounds like," Zander winked.  
  
Penny and Liz traded unimpressed looks. "Anyways, she left her bag down here." Liz continued, "I think I'll take it up to her. Then the lecher boy and I will be out of your hair."  
  
"Sure," Penny giggled. Zander only shrugged.  
  
"Be back in a flash," Liz said cheerily.  
  
************************************************************  
  
Alexis hummed quietly to Kristina as she finished changing the toddler's diaper.  
  
"In a pleasant mood are you?" Stephan asked.  
  
"I was singing to my daughter," she answered, returning her brother's look of disdain.  
  
Stephan took a step forward from the doorway and entered the nursery. "Did your meeting with that unusual woman go well?"  
  
Alexis took a moment to ponder his question. "Unusual in relation to what? Because I know you can't possibly be comparing her to a Cassadine."  
  
"Be wary Alexis," he warned. "You know neither her character nor her true intentions."  
  
She lifted Kristina off her changing table and began cradling her in her arms. Smilingly, she said, "Oh, its not that bad. I seem to get along much better with strangers then with the people that I do know well."  
  
"Haven't you considered how preposterous the notion this woman presents is? How can she possibly get your license to practice law re-instated? Don't you realize what she would have to be in order to be able to do something like that?"  
  
"What do you suppose she is?" Alexis asked unconcerned.  
  
"I did a little investigating while you were speaking with her. Do you realize that she's the granddaughter of a notorious crime lord that once ruled this city? That family lived in this house."  
  
Alexis shrugged, "We can't choose our lineage Stephan. You know this."  
  
"Even so, you should be concerned. Faith Rosco is her sister, and seems to have carried on the family tradition of blood and violence for profit. How do you know this Hope is nothing like her? You would endanger the welfare of your daughter by having someone like this about her?"  
  
Looking deep into her brother's eyes, Alexis still smiled, but her voice was cold and distant. "I have seen you slowly destroy a once loving and trusting relationship with a boy who loved you like a father with lies, deception and manipulation. You are not qualified to question any decisions I make concerning my daughter. Furthermore, you are a hypocrite to judge a woman's character based on the past actions of her family. Hope not only gave me her word that will she have my license re-instated but also guaranteed that no harm would come to Kristina in the process. And you know what, I believe her. It's something when you trust a stranger's word more than that of your own brother."  
  
"You dare to accuse me of hypocrisy?" he asked heatedly. "You would not be holding the daughter you claim to love so fiercely now had it not been for my intervention."  
  
"That is true," Alexis agreed, "and for this, I will always be grateful to you, despite how you went about it. But you also promised to help me rebuild my career Stephan. Instead, I've watched you spend the better part of a year trying to control Nicholas' love life."  
  
"You know very well why that is necessary. Or have you forgotten the financial strife the family currently exists in. All I asked for in return was your patience, even though I deserved more. In the end I knew you would falter in your loyalty as you have commonly done."  
  
"This has nothing to do with loyalty," she stated. Certain that Kristina was now asleep, she placed the her in her crib before turning to Stephan again to continue, "The only reason you're upset is because I've taken control of the situation from you--,"  
  
"And placed it in the hands of someone who has no reason to care about what happens to you or your child," he interrupted. "All things have their time and purpose Alexis."  
  
"Then it would seem the time has come for a purpose to be fulfilled. It just won't be yours."  
  
Stephan simply looked upon his sister. He spoke calmly with eyes narrowed. "Do not come to me again begging for rescue when this new house of sand washes away, as you and I both know it will." Without another word, he turned his back and walked out.  
  
Alexis breathed out slowly as she closed her eyes. It wasn't good, but to fallout with Stephan could definitely be worse. She wasn't a fool. She didn't doubt Hope Theron's word, but she wasn't about to stake her life on it either. She could wait until tomorrow to test the merit of her belief in this strange, yet fascinating woman. But no matter what happened, she told herself as she gently stroked her sleeping daughter's face, she would take control of her life again. Stephan, Skye or anyone else be damned. Nothing would stop her from gaining what she wanted this time. Nothing.  
  
************************************************************  
  
For the first time in a long time, Hope felt she had gotten more than what she had initially bargained for. The question had been innocent enough. "Why is your father trying to hurt Elizabeth?" What she got was a sordid tale starring Ric Lansing, without doubt her dearest friend, but also, based on what she was hearing, a vile, wicked fiend.  
  
"You kidnapped your pregnant sister-in-law?" Hope tried to process.  
  
"Among other things," Ric admitted sheepishly. "But that was pretty much the straw that broke the camel's the back."  
  
"And from the sounds of it your marriage too," she remarked unkindly. "No wonder Elizabeth thought you tried to run her over. If you could abduct a pregnant woman and hold her prisoner in your home for weeks with the intent of stealing her baby, what wouldn't you do?"  
  
Ric's face turned from guilty shame to grave sincerity, "I would never try to hurt my wife Hope."  
  
She rolled her eyes and exclaimed, "You fed her birth control pills and poisoned her you flaming idiot! You don't count that as trying to kill her?"  
  
"Let me explain," he began.  
  
Hope raised a hand to stop him; "I think that's enough Confessions of a Dangerous Mind for tonight man." She shook her head and glanced at her watch. She had things to care after, and his melodrama was making everything murkier by the minute. Her life wasn't a phone card. She didn't have extra minutes to spare for anyone, especially someone so clearly demented. Ric was always different, a little off centre, even twisted. That had never bothered her. It was the blatant stupidity of his maliciousness that incited her displeasure. Even as he told her everything he had done in reprisal against his half-brother Sonny Corinthos and his wife Carly, she perceived a hint of denial in his admission of regret, as if he really hadn't foreseen what he would've had to do to make his plan work. And his collusion with Lorenzo Alcazar to pull it off hadn't helped matters in the least. Now Faith was in all of this up to her neck as usual in addition to his obsessive father Trevor. Feeling a headache coming on, she rubbed her forehead; she needed to think this thru again.  
  
"What you must think of me," Ric said sullenly as he watched her.  
  
"That's not important," she replied brusquely. "There are people who have pulled off worse things than what you've done. But that's not to excuse you either. You were blinded by rage and hate it sounds to me. Deep-seated hate and revenge lust for your brother and a mix of grief for the child you thought he cost you. But to turn on Elizabeth like that."  
  
"There's nothing I regret more." Ric confessed. "I had everything good and right in my life when she agreed to marry me. And I destroyed it, all of it. She hates me now, fears me even--,"  
  
"As she should," Hope remarked.  
  
Ric looked at her. Even though her words were true, they still cut to the bone.  
  
Hope looked unapologetically back at him. Henry had been dead for years, but she still hated him for betraying her as if it had happened yesterday. She could empathize with Elizabeth Webber's ill feelings regarding Ric. But that was beside the point. There was still a bigger problem. "Explain to me again how your father comes into all of this."  
  
"My father blames Sonny for my mother leaving him. He was in love with her and she was in love with him I suppose, but she wanted to raise Sonny with his father. I guess it was what Sonny wanted, and Adele wanted to do right by her child."  
  
"What about you?"  
  
"I was just a bargaining chip to him. He used me to blackmail my mother into coming back to him, but obviously she wouldn't abandon her other son."  
  
"So she chose one son over another. No wonder you held such intense enmity for Sonny."  
  
"It was twisted. And my father took every opportunity to manipulate it. But it was all lies he fed me in an attempt to nurture a resentment that festered in him. He wanted it to rot me, like it rotted him. And it did. It cost me the woman I loved. I don't need to be in that place again, Hope I'm done. I'm tired of being in hate with everything. I need control of my life."  
  
Hope understood exactly what he meant. "So his threatening to hurt Elizabeth is an attempt to coerce you into finishing with him what you started."  
  
Ric nodded.  
  
Hope leaned back in her armchair and raised her hands to her lips. Her forefingers made a steeple before them as she stared at the ceiling, mired in reflection. Despite her disgust, she knew she was going to help him. She had to. Besides, with Faith's involvement, this was now her fight too. Her plan would have to be modified.  
  
"I'll help you," she said finally.  
  
"Thank you," he said in relief.  
  
"But no killing."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You heard me. There'll be no murder Ric. Murder can't solve this. Too much violence and bloodshed has perpetuated this situation. Blood only brings more blood. And believe me, you don't want to kill your father Ric. No matter how much you hate him, or how justified you feel in doing so, you cannot kill your father. We don't live in a Greek tragedy. This isn't Shakespeare. To kill your blood takes you to a dark place you don't want to be. You hate yourself now; imagine how much more you will hate yourself if you commit patricide. You'll cease to exist. You're still a young man; you have hope in you, even if you can't see it. I won't let you sabotage yourself for revenge, and definitely not in Elizabeth's name. She wouldn't want that either."  
  
"Then how do we protect her?" Ric asked desperately. "I don't know what else to do. She shouldn't have to suffer any more because of me."  
  
"And she won't," Hope said, leaning in. "I have a plan. But it will require a lot of fast talking on my part and something very crucial from you."  
  
"Name it. I'll do anything."  
  
"The truth Ric. We have to tell Elizabeth everything."  
  
************************************************************  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Hey stranger," Skye purred.  
  
"It hasn't been that long has it?" Lorenzo asked.  
  
"Ten hours is long enough," she said. "I'm sorry about this morning."  
  
Lorenzo pulled back a chair from his desk and sat with the phone in his hand. "What happened this morning?" he asked mildly.  
  
"I slammed the car door. It was rude."  
  
"Don't give it a second thought," he pardoned. "I wasn't exactly my most pleasant today."  
  
"You had a lot on your mind," she said. "Were you able to complete the important business you had to do?"  
  
"Yes, I was, thank you for asking."  
  
"I know it may not always seem like it, but I do understand that there are some things you can't tell me about. You made that clear from the beginning."  
  
"If something's changed Skye; if you feel this isn't something you can accept--,"  
  
"I haven't changed my mind," she said.  
  
"You're sure?"  
  
"I am. I guess I could use a little practice in the 'how to deal' department," she joked.  
  
"You don't need to practice anything," he replied without humour. "You're perfect as you are."  
  
Skye could feel her skin beginning to flush. No one had ever said anything like that to her before, ever. Not even Jax. Strong emotions stirred in her, making her afraid to say another word.  
  
"Skye? Are you still there?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm still here," she said snapping back into the conversation. She cleared her throat. "You just caught me a little off guard for a second there." She mentally slapped herself. Why did I just say that out loud?  
  
Lorenzo smiled into his end of the phone, "I meant what I said you know."  
  
"I know." She wanted to change the subject. "Say, what are you doing tonight? If you're not busy, maybe we could get a bite to eat. We could go to Portofino or the Grille--,"  
  
"That sounds lovely but I can't tonight. There are some things I need to see after."  
  
"Business," she declared with a sigh.  
  
"Yes, business," he agreed. "However, I'm not adverse to meeting for a nightcap later. But that's only if you don't mind waiting up."  
  
"Hmmm, how late are we talking? A girl needs her beauty rest you know."  
  
"Some girls perhaps." His voice turned deep and meaningful, "But you're not one of them."  
  
"You're very sweet, but you still haven't answered my question."  
  
"How does eleven thirty sound?"  
  
"It sounds like you're going to have ask me very nicely."  
  
What he actually did say, Skye hadn't the foggiest idea; he'd uttered it all seductively in Spanish. She decided that was good enough for her.  
  
"Eleven thirty sharp," she breathed.  
  
Lorenzo laughed softly. "Count on it."  
  
************************************************************  
  
"What do you mean tell Elizabeth everything?"  
  
"Exactly what I said." Ric crossed his arms in front of him, full of scepticism. "It's the only way this plan will work," she argued. "It'll be too dangerous for her if she's not involved voluntarily."  
  
"You'd better explain this to me from the beginning," he demanded.  
  
"Okay, let's start by pinpointing our main problem. We have two of them. One, your father wants you to help him destroy Sonny Corinthos. Two, if you don't, he's going to take out his wrath on Elizabeth as punishment. You with me so far?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"So, we're going to give your father what he wants," Hope said a-matter-of- factly.  
  
Ric let out a sharp breath as he asked, "What the hell are you talking about? We can't do that!"  
  
"Calm down and listen will you. You're going to let your father believe that you're willing go along with his little vendetta. That way, we can find out what he and Faith are up to--,"  
  
"And foil them."  
  
"Exactly," she lauded.  
  
"Problem. I've bitterly resisted him on this issue from the instant he mentioned it. My father's not stupid. He's not going to buy my sudden change of heart overnight."  
  
"He will if he finds out the reason for it before you go to him."  
  
"How?"  
  
"We're going to stage a ruse. That's where Elizabeth comes into the picture. And that's why she needs to be told what's going on. It's the only way she'll ever agree to help."  
  
The unexpected sound of knocking made them both jump. They looked at each other, the door, then each other again, neither wanting to make a move.  
  
"Hello? Hope?" came the muffled voice. "It's Elizabeth from downstairs. You asked me for an icepack?"  
  
"Just a minute," Hope called back. Ric motioned wildly for her not to betray his presence as he quietly made his way to the closet to hide. Certain that he was completely out of view; she went to open the door.  
  
"Hi," she greeted brightly.  
  
"Hi," Liz replied. "I'm not disturbing you am I?"  
  
"Oh no," Hope said dramatically. "I was just surprised to get a knock at my door. I'm kind of new in town."  
  
"Yeah, I heard you checked in last night. Are you finding the room okay?"  
  
"Oh yeah, it's great. I don't need much anyway. What can I do for you?"  
  
"I was just finishing my shift and I noticed that you forgot your purse downstairs," Liz raised the handbag into view. "I just wanted to give it back to you before I left."  
  
Holy shit, Hope's mind screamed. "Wow, how silly of me," her mouth spoke. "I can't believe I did that. I'm usually way more responsible." She extended her hand to grab the strap "That was really nice of you to bring it up."  
  
Liz handed the bag to her. "It's no trouble, really." With a conspiratorial wink she added, "It was kind of heavy though. You must be like me, carry your whole life in there."  
  
Hope laughed uncomfortably, "Some days it seems like it." With the purse firmly in hand, she finally started to relax a little. "Thanks again for bringing it up."  
  
"Don't mention it," Liz dismissed. "So are you going to be in town for a while, or are you just passing through?"  
  
Now why would she care either way, Hope wondered? "I'm not sure yet. I figure I'll be here at least a few days though."  
  
"Cool," Liz nodded. "I work in the diner almost everyday, so I'll probably see you around."  
  
"Yeah, probably," Hope agreed. Silence hung awkwardly as the two women stood looking at each other.  
  
"Yeah, well, I'll let you get back to your business." Liz said. "You probably have to unpack and stuff."  
  
"Yeah" Hope said.  
  
"Okay then. Bye."  
  
"Bye." Hope closed the door.  
  
As she turned to walk back down the hallway, Liz's brain ticked riotously. It's nothing, she told herself. It's probably just déjà vu. But she knew that was a lie. That woman was familiar and the reason why absolutely freaked her. She remembered where she'd seen Hope before: in every one of her dreams.  
  
************************************************************  
  
Satisfied that Elizabeth was no longer within earshot, Hope said, "You can come out now."  
  
Ric emerged from his hiding place dusting his shoulders off. "Don't people ever clean in there?" he complained.  
  
"You're the one who went diving into the closet," Hope scolded. "What are you, in high-school? Why'd you turn tail and run like that?"  
  
"I didn't want to frighten her," he said. "She doesn't know I'm back yet."  
  
Hope made a face. "She's going to find out you're back anyway."  
  
"I don't want Elizabeth to be dragged into this Hope. She's in enough danger as it is. I don't want to add to it."  
  
"She's already been dragged into this, thanks to your father. That's why she has to be in on this plan. It reduces the chances that some mishap could happen that would otherwise endanger her due to ignorance."  
  
Ric plopped down onto the bed. "Okay, okay. So what kind of ruse do you have in mind?"  
  
Hope tossed the purse she was still holding onto the mattress next to him causing his semi-automatic gun and silencer to partially bounce out. Unprepared, Ric coiled back out of reflex at the sight.  
  
"Pay close attention," she ordered. "This is going to be complicated."  
  
Chapter 7  
  
Zander idly glanced at the clock on the wall. It said eight-thirty. Of course, the only reason that mattered was because it marked the ninety minutes since he'd walked Elizabeth back to her studio and the fifty minutes since she'd said nothing was wrong; in spite of her nervous opening, spilling or dropping of any object she held in her hands. Eight- thirty also denoted the last ten minutes she'd spent pacing the room. Immediately before that, she'd leafed rapidly through her journal for almost half an hour, until something she'd found in it made her throw it down in disgust.  
  
Five minutes from the fifth time he'd asked her, he repeated, "Now are you going to tell me what's wrong?"  
  
Liz ceased her pacing and stared blankly at him. "What?" she asked briskly.  
  
"I said, are you ready to tell me what wrong now?"  
  
She ignored him and went back to pacing. Zander threw his hands up in exasperation. "For God's sake, Liz! Tell me what's wrong. You're going to fall through the hole you're wearing into the floor."  
  
"I can't!" she shouted. "I'm stressed okay? I don't know why because I'm not normally this stressed, but guess what? I'm full of more stress than I know where to put!"  
  
Zander said nothing. He decided he would wait instead.  
  
"I drew her face, in my journal," she said. "Weeks, months ago, I don't know, but I remember drawing her face. And now I'm scared."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because I can't find the sketch and now she's real! I saw her! Today, at Kelly's!"  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Hope! She was in my dream Zander. I've never seen her before in my life! But hey, I dream of her a few times, I draw her into my journal, then poof! Out of nowhere, she shows up at Kelly's and my sketch is gone!"  
  
Zander wanted to ask if she was sure, but decide against it. He'd wait till she got tired of yelling instead.  
  
"Why aren't you saying anything?" she demanded loudly.  
  
"Because you're still yelling," he said honestly.  
  
This time she stopped pacing as suddenly as if she'd realized she'd hit a dead end. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled, and then sat next to him on the couch.  
  
"What are the odds of something like that happening?" she asked, more subdued.  
  
"Zero to none," said Zander.  
  
"Exactly."  
  
They sat together saying nothing else for what seemed like forever. In reality, it was only five minutes.  
  
"Who do you want to talk to first? My dad or Hope?" he asked.  
  
"What do you think?"  
  
"You want the truth?"  
  
"When have you given me anything else? Of course I want the truth."  
  
"My dad."  
  
"Me too. But I'm going to talk to Hope instead."  
  
Zander about to say more was interrupted by Pop Goes the Weasel, prompting Liz to get up and grab her cell phone.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Hi."  
  
She recognized Ric's voice instantly.  
  
"Hi," she said back. The mixture of shock, trepidation and relief left her too stunned to say anything more.  
  
"How are you?" he asked.  
  
"Stressed, but good overall," she said lightly. "Why are you stressed?"  
  
"I just met a woman I've only ever seen before in my dreams and nightmares and now you're calling me."  
  
Zander straightened up from his slouch in the sofa to listen.  
  
"What woman? Who is she?"  
  
"Never mind. What do you want?"  
  
"I need to talk to you. In person."  
  
"When?"  
  
"Tonight."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"I'll come there. Are you alone?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Is Zander with you?"  
  
"How did you know that?"  
  
"Lucky guess."  
  
She didn't say anything.  
  
"I can be there in fifteen minutes. Is that okay?"  
  
"Okay."  
  
"I'll see you then," Ric said, and then hung up.  
  
"What's up?" Zander asked as Liz gently toyed with the phone in one hand.  
  
She turned to face him and said, "I need you to do me a favour."  
  
"Name it."  
  
"I need you to leave for a while. Can you do that for me?" "Who was on the phone?"  
  
"Lucky's on his way. He wants to talk. Alone."  
  
Liz hated lying to Zander. But she knew he'd never go if she told him the truth.  
  
"I'll leave when he gets here," he said.  
  
"No Zander, I need you to go now."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because I know you and Lucky can't stand each other and I've had enough drama for one day."  
  
Zander sat still, unconvinced.  
  
"Really, it'll be okay. Please, just go. He'll be here any minute."  
  
"Did he say what he wanted to talk to you about?"  
  
"No, but it sounded important." He still looked unconvinced.  
  
"Come on Zander."  
  
"Alright, I'll go, but only for a bit. I'll be back later."  
  
"Fine." Liz picked up Zander's jacket and handed it to him.  
  
"I'll be back," he warned again, heading for the door.  
  
"Alright Arnold, I get it." They gave each other smarmy grins as Liz closed the door behind him.  
  
Leaning her head against it, she said quietly to no one, "Alright Ric, I'm here and waiting. You're move."  
  
************************************************************  
  
"You ready?" Hope asked.  
  
"As ready as can be expected," Ric replied. "What are you going to be doing while I'm gone?"  
  
"I have some things to see after," she said vaguely.  
  
Ric's expression turned from serious to concerned. "Be careful Hope. This is a huge risk we're taking. And he's very dangerous."  
  
"I know. You just do your end and I'll take care of mine."  
  
With a nod, Ric climbed onto the fire escape and began to make his way down.  
  
"Hey!" she whispered hoarsely.  
  
He stopped. "What?" he hissed back.  
  
"Trust me okay? I know what I'm doing."  
  
"Famous last words," he grimaced.  
  
He didn't wait for Hope to respond as he descended the rest of the escape and vanished into the night.  
  
************************************************************  
  
Lorenzo fished his cellular out from his pocket.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Who is this?" he growled.  
  
"I'm hurt. And to think I was going to invite you out for a drink."  
  
Lorenzo was not amused. "How did you get this number?"  
  
"I have my ways. Does that worry you?"  
  
"Worry is for people who have crossed me."  
  
"You sound cross. Should I be worried?"  
  
"Perhaps."  
  
Hope sighed, which to Lorenzo's surprise, he found quite sexy. Her eyes and mouth flashed quickly through his mind as he forced himself to concentrate. "So how about that drink?"  
  
"You're asking me on a date?" he nearly chortled.  
  
"No, I'm inviting you out for some Evian. You bring the glasses. We'll meet on the boat you've ordered your men to embargo."  
  
He wasn't sure how to respond to this. He asked her, "Will El Patron be joining us?"  
  
"Why do you ask?"  
  
"Unmarked yacht, Russian speaking captain. They're his trademarks."  
  
"And from this you surmise that the yacht is El Patron's? That's a stab in the dark if I've ever heard one."  
  
"Am I wrong?"  
  
"I'll be waiting for you on the boat. And don't forget the glasses!"  
  
The line went dead.  
  
Of the information Lorenzo had obtained regarding Hope Theron's past, none of it had alluded to any connections to the mysterious organization El Patron. And now she was demanding a meeting on one of their boats.  
  
He reopened his phone and dialled.  
  
"As soon as you seize the ship, look for a dark haired woman aboard it. Do not harm her, but ensure she is unarmed. Kill anyone else."  
  
************************************************************  
  
Liz heard a knock at her door.  
  
"Who is it?" she asked lightly.  
  
"Who it is," Ric's voice said.  
  
She smirked and opened the door.  
  
"What kind of response is that?"  
  
"An effective one. You knew it was me and opened the door." "Maybe that's because I recognized your voice and was expecting you," she shot back. Ric grinned at her and walked in. "Zander's gone, and you should thank me, because it wasn't easy." Shutting the door again she continued, "I had to tell him you were Lucky."  
  
"Thank you," he said.  
  
They took a moment to look at each other. It had been almost a year since Ric had last seen Elizabeth. She had been in a hospital room with bandages over her eyes accusing him of trying to kill her. He could see those eyes now. They were big, brown and wonderful as ever. As always, she looked heart-achingly beautiful.  
  
Liz wrapped her arms around herself protectively as she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Why was he staring at her like that? "What's with the five 'o clock shadow?" she asked to break the silence.  
  
He smiled, rubbing a hand against his chin. "It's been a busy couple of days."  
  
"Where have you been?"  
  
"Up until a month ago, I was in Switzerland. I've been moving from place to place since."  
  
"Why?" she asked, walking past him to sit on the couch.  
  
"I've been following my father."  
  
Her eyes narrowed, "You're father?"  
  
"Yes," he said, grabbing a stool to sit on. He finally removed the hood he had been wearing over his head and unzipped his sweatshirt. "Which is what brings me here."  
  
"What do you mean?" she asked, trying to ignore how fit and healthy he looked in his black t-shirt. The Alps appeared to agree with him, she mused.  
  
"He's in town Elizabeth, and he's teamed up with Faith."  
  
Faith? Her heart sank. "What's going on?"  
  
"My father has been trying to pressure me into helping him in a vendetta against Sonny. I've refused, so he's resorted to threats."  
  
"What kind of threats?"  
  
"He's threatened to hurt you if I don't help him."  
  
Liz sat quietly and looked him hard in the face. "Why does he think threatening me will make you do what he wants?"  
  
"Because he knows that you're the most important person in my life and that I'd do anything for you, to protect you."  
  
She tried hard to quell the warmth growing in her chest. Come on, Webber, she coaxed, don't start. He's said this type of thing before. However, what made the difference now was that for the first time, in a long time, for reasons she couldn't begin to explain if she tried, she believed him.  
  
"So what are you going to do?"  
  
"I have a plan, but I need your help."  
  
Her look turned cautious again. "What do you need from me?"  
  
He watched her closely as he relayed to her the plan he and Hope had devised earlier. When Hope first told him, he couldn't believe his ears, so he could only imagine how Elizabeth would react. She tensed at the mention of Hope's name and involvement. At the mention of Alcazar, she tensed some more. When he finally got to the part about Sonny, she could no longer contain herself.  
  
"This is completely insane Ric! Do you realize how dangerous this is?"  
  
"It's the only way--," he pleaded.  
  
"No it's not," she fumed. "Did you ever think of just going to the police? To Commissioner Scorpio?"  
  
"Do you remember the last time I tried that? Faith cut a deal with the Feds and she's walking the streets today. Plotting your demise, I might add."  
  
"Don't you dare throw that back at me. Faith is all your doing. She'd never have tried to poison me if you hadn't slept with her and got her all obsessed with you."  
  
"And I'll always regret that," he said. "But that's the past, and right now is what matters most, because as we speak, Faith and my father are concocting ways to torture you so I'll give in to their demands."  
  
Liz shook her head stubbornly. "Then I'll leave town. I'll go somewhere they can't find me. I'll go to my parents in Europe."  
  
Ric persisted, "You think that's going to save you? Isn't Audrey still here? And Sarah? You think Faith and my father wouldn't follow you to Europe, or worse, target your family to torment you and pressure me further?"  
  
Her jawed dropped. She hadn't considered that her grandmother and sister might be in danger too. Ric had mentioned how his father had been cruel and distant to him during his youth. But was he that possessed?  
  
"Yes he is," he answered, reading her mind. "He's that insane. That sick. He's.he's like I was last year, after we lost the baby, but worse. Much, much worse."  
  
She clamped her jaw shut again. Ric sat down next to her. "Since I was a boy, I've hated Sonny. It was easier than hating my mother because I didn't want to believe that she'd willing left me to be with someone else. But my father didn't help matters either. He helped twist a sense of abandonment in a little boy and nurtured it to a viscous hatred that would rot anything it touched. Just like it rotted him. The lies about my mother not wanting me, about Sonny pushing her down the stairs while she was pregnant so she'd miscarry me, all were his way of trying to funnel the venomous resentment I felt towards his enemy and exact the retribution he felt entitled to."  
  
"But Sonny was just a boy when all this happened," Liz said.  
  
"It doesn't matter. He hates him anyway. It's easier for him to do that than just to admit that my mother didn't love him anymore. He never got over her rejection of him and because he didn't, he felt I shouldn't. He considered this his way of punishing her. That's the way he his. If you hurt him or cross him, he punishes you any way he knows how. He tried to blackmail my mother into staying with him by threatening to never let her see me again. She resisted and ran away. So he tries to groom me to take vengeance against her son. At first I gave in, but now I resist, so he's targeted you. And it won't stop there. If he can't get you, he'll use someone connected to you, like your family. Running away won't solve this. He's been following me for more than twenty years. He's stalked Sonny for almost as long. He'll do the same with you until I give in."  
  
There was nothing left to say. Trevor Lansing did definitely sound worse. And with Faith at his side, there was no telling what he might do next.  
  
"So this woman, Hope, thinks this plan is the only way to go?" she asked.  
  
"Short of killing my father and Faith, yeah."  
  
"What do you think?"  
  
"If this plan doesn't work, I will kill them."  
  
Liz's eyes grew wide. "I was going to this afternoon," he confessed. "Kill them, I mean. But Hope stopped me."  
  
"Who is she?" Liz demanded.  
  
"My best friend from college."  
  
"You never mentioned her before."  
  
"I hadn't seen her since after she married my other best friend Henry, almost ten years ago. I just found out he died eight years ago. I'd lost touch with them. It was my fault. But as if by design, when I had no reason to think I'd ever see her again, she was here, just when I needed a friend most."  
  
Liz winced. "What is it?" he asked her.  
  
"Were you with her when I knocked on her door at Kelly's?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
She looked away from him to glare at the wall in front of her.  
  
"Where is she now?" she asked.  
  
"I'm not sure. I suspect she's meeting with Alcazar."  
  
She continued to glare. "This is the whole truth you're telling me?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
He could have given in to his father, she argued in her head, but he came to you and told you the truth. He asked for your help. But what he's asking for is dishonest and hideous. It could get you arrested if the police found out. You should tell Lucky.  
  
Yeah, but what have the police done for you lately?  
  
Let Faith go free for poisoning you.  
  
Let Courtney off the hook for running you over.  
  
Let Carly and Alcazar get away with covering the whole thing up.  
  
"When is this thing supposed to go down?"  
  
"Tomorrow night," he said.  
  
She was scared, but she didn't have faith in the police anymore, regardless of whether Lucky was on the force or not.  
  
Your survival is at stake Webber. Yours, your grandmother's, Sarah's.Ric's.  
  
She looked at him again. "I know you didn't run me over."  
  
Ric just looked at her.  
  
"Why did you leave?"  
  
"You wanted me to leave you alone. So I did."  
  
"I'd told you to do that before. You didn't listen."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Why'd you listen that time?"  
  
Ric sat quietly for a moment, looking into her eyes. They were shining with emotion. What did she expect him to say?  
  
"I'd wrecked your life enough. I didn't want to ruin it anymore."  
  
"That was all?"  
  
"It's not enough?"  
  
She stared hard at him again.  
  
"I didn't abandon you. I.I was trying to set you free. I couldn't convince you that you were wrong, so I thought I'd prove it the only way I could. I'd give you what you wanted. I'd go away."  
  
"And now you're back."  
  
"I'm telling the truth. About everything."  
  
She knew that.  
  
"I dreamt about you," she said. "You were trying to tell me something, but I could never hear you. And then I'd get so scared and wake up."  
  
He waited.  
  
"I'm glad I listened this time." She smiled and squeezed his hand. "I'll do it."  
  
He smiled and squeezed her hand back.  
  
Chapter 8  
  
"Any problems?" Lorenzo asked as he approached the docks.  
  
"None at all," said Raphael. "In fact the ship was already anchored when we arrived at the arranged time."  
  
"Did you search it yet?"  
  
"Yes. The men found only the dark haired woman you mentioned. She was unarmed. Tomas is onboard with her now."  
  
"You found nothing else?"  
  
"No. There appeared to be no cargo."  
  
"Let's go," Lorenzo ordered.  
  
With Raphael in the lead and his man Pedro behind, Lorenzo walked deliberately towards the waiting yacht. Unmarked but for the red dragon insignia emblazoned against a black pennant, the pennant flapped lazily in the night breeze at their arrival.  
  
Stopping at the edge of the pier, Lorenzo asked, "What of the captain?"  
  
Raphael replied, "We searched the boat up and down. There was no one else but the woman on it."  
  
"Search again," Lorenzo commanded. "Pedro, come with me."  
  
As the two men boarded, Lorenzo could hear a woman laughing. He entered the cabin below.  
  
"You're late," Hope declared without looking at him. Her eyes were fixated on a plasma television built into the wall. Tomas stood quietly off to the corner in his usual unheeded observance as Hope released a snort. Lorenzo saw two men arguing over a man with a bullet in his head in the back seat of a car.  
  
"What are we watching?" he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.  
  
"Pulp Fiction," she said. Lorenzo said nothing.  
  
She explained, "It's one of the best mob movies ever made."  
  
His curiosity was peaked. "How so?"  
  
"Well," she began excitedly, "the storytelling is very effective. It's told from each of the main character's point of view. It's the first movie to use that style of time sequencing so effectively."  
  
"Really?" he entertained.  
  
"Really," Hope beamed. "But what truly makes the film special is the way the director uses violence as humour in an attempt to explain the foibles of the human condition."  
  
"Is that so?"  
  
"Yes. Essentially, he shows the viewer that most people, especially those that hold the guns, are at least partially mad, or absolutely stupid."  
  
He looked at Tomas. Tomas did not look back. "What about the others?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"You said that most people are either partially mad or absolutely stupid. What about the rest of the people? What are they?"  
  
"Oh," she said. "They're just dead."  
  
Pedro blew out a loud guffaw while Tomas wore the most imperceptible smile imaginable.  
  
"Wait outside," Lorenzo told them.  
  
Both men quickly exited the cabin to the deck above.  
  
"The Evian is in the fridge," she said, shutting off the movie with a remote. "Did you bring glasses?"  
  
"No," he said.  
  
"Tch, tch, tch," she sounded, shaking her head. "Tardy and unable to follow instructions. Not good."  
  
Lorenzo took a seat in an armchair across from her. As he undid a button from his blazer, he leaned forward to look at her with eyes blue as ice.  
  
"Are you testing me?" he asked, his voice cool with menace.  
  
Hope returned his gaze, her own eyes flickering with the unusual spark he had witnessed in the cemetery. But her voice was light and cheerful. "No, I just dislike such traits in business partners."  
  
"Business partners?" he echoed in near surprise.  
  
"Yes," she stated. "I come with water and a proposition."  
  
He tilted his head slightly. "El Patron wishes to make me an offer?"  
  
"There you go again about El Patron," she moaned.  
  
"That's his pennant outside."  
  
"If you must know, El Patron sold me this boat."  
  
"So you do know him?"  
  
"We did business. I wanted a boat. El Patron sold me this one."  
  
"He blew up three of my ships."  
  
"Ooh," she remarked sympathetically. "Oh well, I guess you can't make friends with everyone. For the record, I had nothing to do with it."  
  
Lorenzo sat back and examined her in full scrutiny. Sprawled against the sofa with one leg tucked under her as the other dangled gracefully to the floor, her every gesture in the well fitted black dress she wore painted a picture of a woman completely self-possessed. He took in the warm colouring of her skin and the way her hair draped over her shoulders long and restless. It made an exotic, beautiful sight. And El Patron sold her a luxurious yacht? He doubted it.  
  
He smiled at her. "What is it you wish to propose to me?"  
  
"Faith Rosco has been recruited as an accomplice in a plan to take down Sonny Corinthos."  
  
"More power to her," he said.  
  
The spark in her eyes grew brighter. "You really hate him, don't you?"  
  
"Hate is a powerful word."  
  
"It's the appropriate word."  
  
"You would know, wouldn't you?" he challenged.  
  
"As do you," she countered.  
  
They sat, one provoker for another, calculating, analysing, patiently awaiting the other's next move.  
  
Hope spoke first. "I want you to approach her, talk to her, get her to confide in you what exactly these plans are."  
  
"Why" he asked innocently.  
  
"Because I want to undermine her."  
  
"You sympathize with Corinthos?"  
  
"I don't know him, therefore I feel nothing for him. My interest is Faith."  
  
Lorenzo believed her because he had read from her dossier why this was so.  
  
"I am sorry about your grandmother."  
  
Hope said nothing.  
  
"Hers was one of the grave markers you went to see today."  
  
Nothing. But her eyes, those eyes were magnificent. They almost looked onyx now.  
  
"It's been rumoured that Faith killed her," he dared.  
  
"She did." And more, he suspected. Her eyes shone now. Lorenzo marvelled. She had more than just fire. She was a blistering furnace.  
  
"What makes you think she'll open up to me?" he inquired.  
  
"Because you know each other. And she's finally gotten in over her head. She's in league with a madman."  
  
"Then she should feel quite at home."  
  
His jibe elicited a smile from her face. She was stunning. "Not this time," she said. "He's crazier than she is."  
  
"Who is he?"  
  
"Trevor Lansing."  
  
"Lansing?"  
  
"As in Ric Lansing's estranged father. Apparently lunacy runs in the family."  
  
"I thought Ric Lansing was your friend?"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"You attended Harvard together. Moreover, he was a very close friend of your late husband's."  
  
Hope was ready now. "He was also employed by your late brother to launder and embezzle money for your family. In fact, he did his job so well, no one noticed until too late that he'd cost Luis millions." She saw his jaw clench. "Moreover," she added with emphasis, "You helped him hold Carly Corinthos captive in a cell in his home for weeks, then kidnapped her to your yacht for your own purposes."  
  
Lorenzo's eyes narrowed to slits. He spoke slowly. "What's your point?"  
  
Good, she thought. "My point is we both know first hand what Ric is and can be when driven. Now imagine him, but at his exponential worse when angered." She paused for effect, "That's his father."  
  
"And this should concern me?"  
  
"If they succeed in eliminating Corinthos, yes. Faith would seize his territory, territory you coveted once for the purpose of shipping your 'wares'."  
  
He shrugged. "So?"  
  
"You don't think Faith would impede you if she could?"  
  
"If necessary, Faith can be handled."  
  
"Right," she said. "As effectively as you've handled Sonny and Ric thus far I'm sure."  
  
"Tread carefully Hope," he warned.  
  
"I speak only the truth Lorenzo," she said enunciating the 'r' in his name.  
  
"You speak only of what you feel necessary to garner what you want," he accused. "And I'm sure you're quite clever at it. But I don't fall easily for tricks; therefore, you do not fool me in the least. I know what you are."  
  
"What am I?"  
  
"I just told you," he declared getting up. He was tired of this and ready to leave. He wanted to find El Patron.  
  
"Look in my eyes and tell me what I am," she demanded.  
  
The odd pitch of her voice made him stop. He looked, and what he saw mystified him. Even though the cabin was well lit, her extraordinary eyes not only shone brighter than any light he'd ever seen, but also hollowed deeper than a trench in the ocean. If it had been anyone else, he'd have called the look she wore desperate. But she did not come to him out of desperation. He wasn't sure if she even felt despair anymore. This was something entirely different.  
  
He sat down again.  
  
"Well?" Her voice was sonorous and impatient. "Answer me."  
  
He refocused his gaze to take in the entirety of her face. It was rigid, chiselled even, with determination, but strangely archaic as well, like a statue.  
  
If Michelangelo had carved a woman's face, she'd have looked like this.  
  
"You are a woman motivated by great anger and loss," he said softly.  
  
Hope closed her eyes, letting out a long slow breath. When she reopened them, she said, "So are you."  
  
Lorenzo re-clenched his jaw as he sat back in the armchair again. Scenes from the cemetery flashed through his mind. He'd underestimated her.  
  
"It would seem that we might be able to assist each other," she said. "You have unfinished business here, as do I. Help me complete mine and I'll help you complete yours."  
  
His mind weighed heavily the idea. She was intelligent and crafty with a connection to El Patron that, if he was careful, could be exploited. But the similarities between her and Faith made him leery. Hope was not only dangerous like her sister, but also diabolical. She was the type of woman who discerned rapidly and thoroughly, but could also act without a moment's notice. She was in many ways.like him. This could be problematic.  
  
Proceed with caution, hombre.  
  
"I will talk to Faith," he said.  
  
"Thank you." Her relief was audible.  
  
"On a condition," he added, raising a finger.  
  
She stared wordlessly at him.  
  
"El Patron must compensate me for my ships he destroyed." Her test would be to determine how best to do so. He had to know the power his rival held over her.  
  
Hope only blinked her wondrous eyes and smiled.  
  
That look was really starting to bother him. He didn't smile back.  
  
************************************************************ 


End file.
